I've never thought this moment would come - I've been a fan of the show for quite some time, and read a bit of fanfiction too... but never thought I'd write some myself. Anyway, when I watched the Beach-episodes again last week, this idea came into my mind and it *insisted* to be written down.
It might not be very original or new, but I assure you, I had the idea all by myself. I'm aware that there's another story out here with the same title, but I couldn't think of a better title, and it just comes naturally with the episode.
So - enough of that, it's C&M, with not a lot of the others in it. Hope you like it anyway.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, this story is only written for entertainment purposes, no copyright infringement is intended.

No Boyfriend Material

Chapter 1

"...I'll be your boyfriend."
There, I said it. I offered Monica to be her boyfriend, and doing that I revealed my most secret desire, to her and to myself. I tried to hide my anxiety, but couldn't stop staring at her while waiting for her answer.
Yet, this answer was not exactly what I'd been hoping for.
She laughed.
"Why, why's that funny?" I asked, trying not to show my disappointment.
"Well, you're Chandler," she answered. "You're *Chandler*," she repeated, playfully punching my arm.
I didn't get it. Though I understood that she hadn't taken my offer seriously. But had I?
Yes.
Definitely.
Even though a minute before, if someone had asked me, I wouldn't have thought so myself.
Yes, I wanted to be Monica's boyfriend.
But obviously she didn't want me, didn't consider me "boyfriend material". She made that utterly clear.

We were sitting outside of Central Perk, waiting for Phoebe to come by with her cab and pick us up. We would all spend the weekend in Montauk, at the beach, and it was supposed to be a fun weekend away from the big city.
While I was still sitting there, thinking about how to convince Monica that I in fact was boyfriend material, my thoughts were racing in my head, and at the same time I tried to hide all that from her. Hiding my thoughts from the others wasn't a problem; their complete focus lay on Ross and Rachel. They would probably not even notice if I'd ask Monica there and then if she wanted to marry me.
Oops, what was that? I, Chandler Bing, thought the "m"-word without freaking out? Something was terribly wrong here…

I was sitting next to Monica in the cab, and it seemed that she had totally forgotten what had happened. She was her usual self, chatting, laughing, even leaning close to me, but being totally oblivious of the fact that I wasn't by any means behaving normal. She didn't notice that I wasn't making jokes, that I wasn't answering her questions, or that if I answered, I didn't say more than "yes" or "no".
I couldn't stop thinking about her reaction to my words, her harsh rejection. I was hurt, more than I wanted to admit.
Unlike usually when she leaned against me I didn't put my arm around her shoulders, I was too irritated.
OK, so she didn't want me as a boyfriend. But did she have to be so explicit about it?

During the weekend I tried to suppress my hurt, tried to joke about the boyfriend issue, to get at least a somewhat promising answer from Monica; but the results were – disappointing.
I was tried to be nice and sweet, to flirt with her during the strip-Happy-Days-game, made another joking approach to ask her to be my girlfriend, but she still rejected me.
And then, in the end, I even peed on her. Right, I had helped her, because she had been in pain, but it surely didn't bring me any closer to her in the romance department.
When we were back home, we had one last talk about it, and that's what she said: I'll always be the guy who peed on her. Wasn't that just perfect?

I had never been good at handling rejection, because it confirmed my innermost fears that I wasn't likable or lovable. But I was good at hiding my feelings from others and from myself. Well, I had been good at it. So much I discovered after the trip to the beach.
I had always had a soft spot for Monica, she was my best friend, and she was definitely the most beautiful woman I had ever met, but at the same time I had always been afraid. Afraid of commitment. Everyone knew that. Now… now my fears didn't seem important anymore, seemed totally irrelevant. All I could think about was Monica.
And that she didn't want me.

I changed. Not quickly, not visibly at first. But I changed. I stopped being the funny-man I had always been, and when I made sarcastic comments, those comments weren't funny anymore, only mean and desperate.
I tried, unsuccessfully, to avoid Monica. Of course I was not successful. I couldn't avoid her. Even though I knew she would never want me, that all she was willing to give me was friendship, I still had to be near her. I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
Sometimes when she was busy in the kitchen, I would just sit on the couch and watch her, and then feel sad and heartbroken immediately, knowing I couldn't be with her.

Nobody seemed to notice how I felt; as usual everything was about Ross and Rachel's on-and-off love story, and their constant fighting. But that was ok with me, I didn't want to draw anyone's attention, and most likely become the joke of the day. I was sure that was exactly what would happen if the others found out about my feelings. And still – part of me was hurt that nobody noticed, and this part of me told me that I shouldn't expect anything else. Why would anyone ever notice when I was not ok? They never did. Nobody ever had.
While in my head I knew that this was total nonsense, this voice whispering in my head constantly reminded me that nobody cared anyway; that I was nothing but "their annoying friend Chandler". Which was most likely untrue – but I'm sure you all know those creepy voices.

That night I hadn't slept a lot, I woke up from a nightmare, fell asleep again, and the nightmare continued, woke up again and couldn't get back to sleep for a while. And when I finally fell asleep again, I dreamt of Monica. I woke up in tears.
What was happening to me?
Why could I suddenly not suppress my feelings anymore?
Slowly I got up, stumbled into the bathroom, glad that Joey was nowhere to be seen. I figured he was either still with his date from last night or already at Monica and Rachel's having breakfast.
I looked into the bathroom mirror, and that didn't exactly lift my spirits. I looked almost as bad as I felt. My eyes were red and swollen from crying, and I looked just as tired and worn out as I was. I stepped into the shower, tried to wash away the traces of the night.
Afterwards I dried myself off, brushed my teeth and got dressed. I didn't bother shaving; it was Saturday anyway, and I didn't have any plans to go out. I wanted to stay home and feel miserable.
Yet I was hungry, and as usual there was no food in our apartment, so I went across the hall, expecting to see everybody there.
But there was nobody but Monica.
Oh no, that was exactly what I did not need today.
Yes please, God, make my misery complete!
"Morning," I mumbled.
"Hi sweetie," she answered, then she looked up from her newspaper, and her eyes widened. "Chandler, what's wrong with you?"
I shrugged, went to the kitchen counter and poured myself a cup of coffee.
When I turned around she was standing directly behind me. I flinched.
She slowly took the mug out of my hands and placed it on the counter.
"Hangover?" she asked compassionately.
I shrugged again.
She shook her head. "No, you don't look like that," she decided after studying my face, and was obviously worried. "If I think about it, you haven't been yourself lately. Honey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice full of sympathy, a friend's sympathy.
"Nothing," I mumbled, trying to get away. She didn't let me. Instead she pulled me into an embrace, pulled my head on her shoulder and caressed my hair. Hmm, this felt so good. *She* felt so good.
I didn't know what to do with my hands, should I embrace her too – that was definitely what I wanted most – or should I not? I tentatively moved my hands upwards, then reluctantly decided against it, dropped them again.
"Chandler, honey, what's going on?" she asked again.
And for a second there was new hope, but just for a second. She was just being my friend, my best friend actually. Nothing more than that.
I still didn't answer, and she slowly broke the embrace. She softly took my hand in hers, took my mug and led me to the couch. We both sat down, and she still stared at me. Softly she caressed my cheek, looked into my eyes, searching for an answer.
"So?"
I shrugged, didn't know what to say or do.
"Chandler, you look terrible, and you're wearing your sweats. Something is bothering you."
"I… I…" I stuttered, "I can't tell."
"Honey, it's me, you can tell me everything!" she said.
How wrong she was – she was the last person I could tell. "No, Mon, I can't. Believe me."
She nodded, accepting. "Fine, but if you ever change your mind, you know where I am, ok? Promise me to take care."
"Yeah, ok." I managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Mon."
"Well, I couldn't do anything, so you don't have to thank me," she answered while standing up from the couch. Then, before heading back to the kitchen, she quickly kissed my forehead.
I remained on the couch, fighting off the effect her "friendly" kiss had on me. "You've done more than enough," I mumbled to myself.
"What?"
"Nothing, Mon."

I breathed slowly, calmed down and pushed down my feelings. Then I stood up and went over to the kitchen to have breakfast. Monica didn't pick up our conversation again, but she was still watching me. And even though she was the root of my misery, it still felt good that she cared.
I gave her a smile.

One by one the others showed up, first Ross, then Phoebe, then Rachel; and it became a normal Saturday morning, with the usual quarrels between Ross and Rachel.
At last Joey entered, whistling. So his date had been a success. But then again, what else is new?
When he looked at me, Joey stopped whistling.
"Man, what happened to you? You look like hell!" he asked. "Hangover?"
What was it with me that everyone thought I had a hangover? Did I drink that much? I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, whatever," I mumbled.
Joey nodded sympathetically. "You know, after a good breakfast you'll surely feel better."
I just nodded and concentrated on my breakfast again.

Yet I was eating so slowly that I was the last one to remain in Monica's apartment. Long after the others had already left, I was still sitting at the table, drinking coffee and finishing my pancakes.
When Monica had finished the others' dishes, she sat down next to me, caressed my hair.
I looked up at her, greedily taking in every bit of affection she was willing to give, smiling at her.
"Better now, Chandler?"
"Yeah, a bit."
She was actually worried about me!
"Remember, if you want to talk, I'm right here."
I nodded, "yeah, I … thanks." With that I had finished my breakfast and stood up. "I guess I'll leave now, Mon. See you."
"Bye, Chandler."

Back in my apartment I fell into the recliner, switched on the TV, and decided that this was exactly what I would be doing for the rest of the weekend – sit here, watch TV, and nothing else. Well not exactly – I would also contemplate my misery and think about Monica.

After a while Joey came out of his room, on his way to the bathroom, but when he noticed me, he stopped dead.
"Man, what's going on with you?" he asked. "Haven't seen you in that condition since… since… " He looked as if he were thinking hard and suddenly his face brightened when he had an idea. "I haven't seen you like that since after you and Janice broke up!" He stared at me, and you could literally see his brain working. "Did you have a secret girlfriend that broke up with you?"
I looked down. Joey was close, but I would surely not tell him what was bothering me. Not Joey, who could get every girl he wanted.
"You're lovesick," Joey blurted out now. "So, who is it? And why have I never met her? And what did you do to make her break up with you? Or is it a he?"
"Joey, NOBODY broke up with me, and surely not a MAN. How often do I have to tell you that I'm not gay?"
"OK, ok," he held up his hands in defence. "If you say so. So, what's your problem anyway?"
"Nothing, Joe, I just don't feel too great."
He shrugged. "Well, if you say so." With that he finally went over to the bathroom, and seconds later I heard the shower.

As planned I stayed in my recliner all day long, stared at the TV-screen, and thought about Monica.

Neither Joey nor anyone else disturbed me during the day, everyone was busy as usual – or, and that was what I was secretly sure of, they were annoyed and didn't care.

Later in the afternoon there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," I said automatically but didn't turn the recliner.
I heard the door open and then footsteps.
"Chandler, do you…" I heard Monica's voice and slowly turned the recliner to face her.
She left her sentence unfinished and stared at me. That was when I noticed that my face felt wet, wet from tears. And it was too late to hide it from her. How embarrassing was that?
Quickly she was at my side, and sat down on the armrest of my recliner.
"Oh sweetie," she whispered and pulled me close. "Joey was right, you look exactly like when you and Janice broke up. Are you sure you don't want to talk?"
I closed my eyes, nodded. "Yeah, positive."
"So, what else can I do for you?" she asked. "Want to come over for dinner tonight?"
"Listen, Mon," I answered. "I don't want to ruin the evening for all of you. And I don't really want to face everyone tonight. Not like that."
"The others won't be there, Chandler," Monica assured me. "There will be just you and me. Just a relaxing evening. And I promise I'll cook your favourite meal."
Not exactly my idea of a relaxing evening, but I couldn't resist. How could I not accept her invitation? I smiled at her.
"You're probably right, Mon. Thanks."
"Great," she said and smiled at me. "Be there at seven, ok?" With that she kissed my forehead and left.

I had to admit, it felt good that she cared, that she wanted to cheer me up, but at the same time it also made my heartache worse.

Come on, Chandler! Pull yourself together! Go back to suppressing your feelings and make the best of her friendship! Because that's all you'll ever get.
I shook my head, finally got up from the recliner and switched off the TV. I still had two hours until seven, so I enough time to get a few things done.
I went into my bedroom, searched for something to wear tonight, threw it on the bed, and then went to the bathroom. I needed another shower, and I needed to shave.
Within an hour I was dressed, I had chosen a suit and tie, determined to look nice for her, even though she probably wouldn't notice.
Now I grabbed my wallet and my keys and hurried outside.

At seven o'clock sharp I knocked on her door, with flowers in my hand. Against my instincts – I so wanted to buy her red roses – I had chosen a small colourful bouquet, and nervously peeled off the paper while I was waiting for her to open the door.
"Chandler, why didn't you just come in?" Monica said as she opened the door, then stared at the flowers. "Are those for me?"
"Yes, yes…" I stuttered. "Because… you… you are … you. Well, I just want to say thank you for being there."
She smiled as she took the flowers. "I always will be, you know that. Now come in."
Reluctantly I followed her inside, leaned against the counter and watched her putting the flowers into a vase.
She was so beautiful.
As if she had felt my glance on her, she suddenly looked up, right into my eyes, and smiled.
"You look very handsome tonight," she said. "I take it you're better?"
"Yes, Mon," I lied and forced myself to look away. If I looked into those blue eyes for one more second, I wouldn't guarantee for anything. I could almost make myself believe that there was more than friendship in the way she looked at me. But again – whom was I kidding?
"You look beautiful, Mon," I whispered.
She shrugged it off. "Don't lie to me, Chandler, I'm not a bit dressed up."
She was dressed in blue jeans and a sweater, true, but to me she couldn't have looked more beautiful in the world's most precious gown.
Not finding the right words I turned away and sat down at the table.
While Monica put the flowers on the table in the living room, returned to the kitchen, was busy at the oven, I couldn't take my eyes off her.

Finally she was done and came to the kitchen table with dinner in her hands. Mac and cheese with cut up hot dogs – my favourite. Just like she had promised. I gave her my best smile, for another split second I could imagine being her boyfriend.
Answering my smile Monica put some food on my plate, then on hers.
"Would you please open the wine?" she asked.
I quickly nodded, opened the bottle and filled our glasses. Maybe for just this evening I could keep up my daydream and pretend this was an actual date.

During dinner we didn't talk much, just the usual superficial things, and I relaxed a bit. Even though nothing happened, just being with her felt too good to be miserable. I was sure that I soon would be able to come back to my normal self. I would suppress those feelings I had for her and gladly accept all she was willing to give – her friendship.

But as you know, things don't always go as planned. Actually with me things hardly ever go as planned.

After dinner we sat down on the couch and Monica leaned against me, just like she had done a thousand times before. I sighed involuntarily.
She looked up, the look on her face became serious. "Still not ok, sweetie?" she asked softly.
"I'll survive."
"I really think you should tell me, Chandler," she insisted. "I mean you're always there to comfort me and to listen to me whenever I'm depressed. You should give me a chance to do the same for you." Her hand now lay on my stomach, which instantly started making flip-flops and I felt nauseous.
"Believe me, Mon, you've already done enough." That didn't come out as planned!
Monica backed off a bit, looked at me with surprise. "What?"
And that was when, despite all my best intentions, something in my mind snapped. I withdrew from her, jumped up, and ran through the apartment.
"I said you already did enough."
I turned around. She was still sitting on the couch, staring at me in disbelief.
"Mon, I'm miserable because of you. You are my problem. I'm in love with you, Mon, and you… you …" I looked down, embarrassed by my outbreak and yelling.
"And you don't want me." I finished quietly. Then I turned to the door, wanted to leave.
But I had not thought about how quick Monica was. Before I even reached the door, her hand was on my shoulder and she forced me to look at her. Anger turned her eyes dark.
"What did you say?" Her voice was dangerously calm.
"I said you don't want me."
Her reaction was nothing like I would have expected, nothing at all.
"Don't you dare!" she suddenly yelled at me. "Don't you dare tell me that I'm responsible for your misery! I've been trying to help you for the last few weeks; I've been trying to find out what was wrong. And now I'm responsible for it? Forget it, Chandler Bing, I don't accept that. Go, leave now!"

I did exactly that, I ran out of her apartment, into my apartment, and into my bedroom. I slammed the doors shut, threw myself on my bed and wished I had never been born. Now I had even destroyed our friendship, she was mad at me. I was such an idiot. Again tears were falling down my face, and I didn't do anything to stop them.
I did it – I lost the friendship of the person that meant most to me. Why couldn't I keep my big mouth shut?
I buried my face in the pillow and let the tears flow.

I didn't hear that she opened the door, I didn't hear her footsteps, and I didn't notice that she sat down on my bed.
When her hand softly caressed my hair, I rolled on my side, away from her. I couldn't face her.
"Chandler," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, sorry, whatever."
"Chandler, listen to me," her hand continued to caress my hair. "Chandler, honey, I had no idea. "
I couldn't answer, I was still crying too hard.
"Chandler, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn't have done that."
"Well, that doesn't help," I answered, sobbing. God, I was so pathetic!
"What do you expect me to do, Chandler?" she remained calm, her hand remained on my head. "I mean what you just told me – I had no idea. I have never imagined you could feel this way. You must at least give me some time."
I didn't answer, I was too busy crying and being pathetic.
I felt her mouth on the side of my head, and then she softly kissed my temple.
"Please give me some time, ok, Chandler? You're my best friend and I couldn't stand losing you."
She stood up, and I heard her leave my room. I didn't look. Didn't want to see the look on her face, the look that told me I didn't stand a chance.

I must have fallen asleep eventually, because at some point I woke up, feeling totally disoriented. Within seconds everything came back, and I made it from disoriented to desperate in no time. It was dark, and everything was quiet. A look at my alarm clock told me it was 4 am. The darkest hour of the night.
I sat up and noticed that I had a terrible headache. I had to get out of here.
I stood up, not caring that I still wore my suit, now crumpled, grabbed my keys and left the apartment.

I didn't know where I went, I just kept walking through Manhattan. Didn't realize that the sun came up, didn't realize that people were staring at me. All my thoughts concentrated on Monica. I had lost her, I had lost the tiniest chance to ever have a relationship with her, even a friendship. And I made a fool of myself, a pathetic fool.

At some point during the day I sat down in Central Park, leaned against a tree, watched people passing by. Every couple I saw made me cringe in pain. I had never wanted a relationship; and now, now that I wanted nothing more it was never going to happen. The story of Chandler Bing's pathetic life!

When I left my place under the tree in Central Park, it was nighttime again. I didn't return to the apartment directly, didn't want to see anyone, so I walked through the streets until I thought it would be safe to return, to not meet Monica.
I made it to my bedroom without any disturbance; Joey was out again, and the door to Monica's apartment didn't open as I sneaked into my apartment. At least something!

Over the next week I managed to avoid Monica, and most of the time the others as well. On Monday morning I left for work early, and wrote a note for Joey saying that I had lots of work and would be home late.

All week long I went to work early and returned late, too late for dinner at Monica's place, too late for hanging out with the others. And I deliberately avoided Central Perk too. Each morning I bought a coffee at the Starbuck's down the street, and each evening I ate something at some junk food place. Not healthy, and my stomach surely did not like this treatment, but I couldn't care less.

I even went to work on Saturday, despite the fact that I didn't actually have work to do. But I could always sit in my office, surf the web, and – most of the time – stare out of the window.

Yet on Sunday my plan didn't work. I overslept the alarm clock, so I couldn't leave before everyone else was up. When I woke up, I heard Joey talking in the living room.
Crap! I had to use the bathroom, and I couldn't wait much longer.
Reluctantly I got up, threw my bathrobe over my pyjamas and opened the door.
Oh no, Joey was talking to Monica, of all people!
"Morning," I mumbled, and quickly went to the bathroom.
I locked the door and sat down on the toilet seat.
What now?
Should I stay in here until they were gone?
How long would they be here?
How long would Monica be in our living room?
Anyway – in order to kill time, I took a shower, shaved, brushed my teeth, but when all that was done, there was no excuse to stay in the bathroom. It would make me look even more pathetic.
So I returned to the living room, planning to go directly to my room.
Relieved I noticed that Joey was gone. But my relief vanished quickly when I saw Monica sitting on the recliner.
"Chandler!"
"Hm?"
"Chandler, can we please talk?" she asked – no, she begged.
I swallowed hard. This was what I had been avoiding for a week. I nodded.
"OK, but let me get dressed first, ok?"
"Sure," she answered. "But don't think I'll leave if you take too long. If I lose my patience, I might just come in."
"OK." With weak knees I turned around and went inside my bedroom.
I dressed quickly, in a t-shirt and sweat pants, afraid that she might actually come inside and find me undressed. But then I sat down on my bed, buried my head in my hands. That was it – now she would tell me that it was over, that our friendship was officially over.
No need to extend my misery.
I stood up to go and face her.

I entered the living room and sat down in the second recliner, her eyes following my every move. She didn't look healthy, I noticed. Actually she looked just as bad as I did. And it was probably completely my fault.
I looked at her, expectantly. No way I would start this conversation.
She leaned closer, put her hands on my legs.
"Chandler, I'm so sorry for all the pain I caused you," she whispered. Her lower lip was trembling.
Now, now she would tell me that she never wanted to see me again.
"Chandler, it's just… I never thought that you wanted us to be more than friends. And… and when you said that you'd be my boyfriend, I thought you were joking. Because I had never thought this would be an option. You know I had a crush on you, back when we first met. And those feelings... they never completely left."
I stared at her, had no idea what she wanted to tell me. But so far she hadn't told me to go to hell, at least!
"Chandler, please be honest now, ok?"
I nodded.
"Chandler, when you said that you're in love with me, was that the truth?"
I nodded again.
A single tear rolled down her cheek. And through my own misery I felt so sorry for her, wanted to take her in my arms, comfort her and take away her pain.
She swallowed audibly. "Chandler, I … I told you that I needed some time… but I didn't say that because I was looking for a way to reject you. Only because this was so huge, and so unbelievable."
What did she want to tell me?
"Man, you surely don't make it easier for me," she rolled her eyes.
She slid off the recliner and kneeled down in front of me. Her hands pulled me down, made me kneel down too. And slowly she wrapped her arms around me, pulled me closer and softly kissed my lips. I was too stunned to react in any way, just let it happen.
After a few seconds she pulled back, looked at me.
"Chandler, will you please say something or do something! Anything! I… I'm trying to tell you that I want to try – us. When I said you weren't boyfriend material, I didn't say so because I thought you weren't good enough. I would never think you're not good enough. The only reason I couldn't imagine you to be my boyfriend is that I thought you wouldn't want it. You've always been afraid of a serious relationship. And… and I've been thinking a lot last week, about you – about us. And… I want us to try. Because … because I'm in love with you too."
I still stared at her, my mind racing. I heard her words, but I didn't completely realize what she said. She lifted her hand, softly brushed away a tear that was rolling down my cheek, then she smiled at me.
"So?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes," was all I managed to say, followed by a weak smile.

Her smile widened, and she wrapped her arms around me, kissed me again. This time I did react. I took her in my arms, pulled her close, answered her kiss. Part of me was still convinced that I was dreaming, but if this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

After a while we broke our kiss, leaned against each other.

"Mon," I whispered.

"Yes?"

"You know… I'm still afraid."

"I know."

"But… but now I'm more afraid to spend my life without you."

"You don't have to, Chandler."