A B C's of Love
A/N: Had to do homework, so I did what I usually do in that predicament. Wrote Mondler. Going to be a bunch of short drabbles through-out Monica and Chandler's relationship… MondlerStealth, MondlerMarriage, MondlerBeforeMondlerness, MondlerJackErica. Pretty self-explanatory. There is sort of a bigger picture thing going on. Tell me what you think and whether or not to go on with this.
A is for Amazing
Monica held Chandlers hand, holding it tighter then she'd ever held anything. There was no way that he was going to leave her now, but lying on the bed, hooked up to all sorts of scary machines that did things she didn't have the mind capacity to remember, things didn't look good. It was surreal, sitting in the hospital, the said machines beeping away the rhythm of his very life.
The first trip to the building only had one machine associated with it… the IV that dripped some form of liquid into him, keeping him hydrated one way or another. He'd joked about it on his way to the bathroom, saying he didn't want to do his business with his "Pole-ish" boyfriend watching. The nurse who was in fact a native Pole muttered a few choice Polish words and left the room.
That was Chandler – trying to make light of a serious situation. When the doctors started listing the medication that would keep his heart and his organs functioning, he began to create his own medicines, asking the dazed pharmacist for thing such as Zamborines and Xdegradles.
It felt like a million years ago now, and Chandler was growing weaker though he stubbornly refused to give up his jokes and sarcasm. Monica knew as long as he had those, he had hope.
Her eyes felt heavy, and she watched him breathe, the steady rise and dip of his chest giving her reassurance that he was in fact, still alive. He was sleeping – he could tell because minutes ago his breathing had slowed and become louder, his body twitching every now and then in response to a dream he was living in another dimension.
The doctors didn't know what was wrong with him, or why his body was acting the way that it was and it worried Monica to think that even specialists and professionals couldn't decide what the root of the problem was. She clutched his hand tighter, hoping he wouldn't wake up from the pressure. He'd been getting so much sleep lately, it seemed that it was all he was doing.
Monica held her hand, smiling as she ran her hand through his almost white hair. They'd been through everything together it seemed, and he'd been there for almost as long as she could remember…
Sitting in the hospital waiting for something to happen gave her a lot of time to think… a lot of time to remember.
aAa
Chandler was sitting on the couch, watching the television through drowsy eyes. It was four in the morning and he was watching a cartoon about deranged animals with mutations on mute, rocking a fussy Jack holding a bottle with his free hand.
The neon yellow rat with strips jumped up and emitted shocks of what he hoped were lightening, and he couldn't even find the strength to change the channel. Jack gurgled and Chandler looked down at him.
"I bet you were old enough to understand TV, eh?" he asked, then waited for a response. Jack didn't respond and Chandler had already forgotten what he'd said.
"You see this?" Chandler asked, shaking the formula. "This usually comes from mommy's boobies, but you were adopted, so we're using a specialized formula made just for you."
Jack looked up blankly at him.
"Did you know my first word was penis?"
Still nothing.
Chandler stood up, knowing Monica would kill him if she knew he was muttering such vulgar words to their son. When he glanced down he saw that Jack was on the verge of crying so he quickly sat down again, not wanting to go through another ear-splitting crying ordeal.
"Guess what?" he asked the infant child, bobbing him gently with one arm, "Uncle Joey's coming tomorrow. He's daddy's best friend, and he's going to bring lots of presents for you and your sister. Aren't you excited?" Chandler cooed, but Jack moved his tiny head away from the empty bottle and yawned a tinny little yawn, signaling his gradual slip into unconsciousness.
Jack's yawn triggered Chandler's while he stood up. He looked around the empty room, feeling very at home with all the furniture aligned perfectly, and his daughter and wife sound asleep on the floor above him. Jack snuggled into his arm contently and Chandler smiled down at him, "Yeah," he whispered softly, love for the small boy exploding in his heart, "I'm really excited too."
He took the empty bottle to the kitchen and quietly placed it in the sink; Jack had just been hungry, which accounted for the crying. He looked at the bottle but knew better then to wash it himself – that was Monica's job. He was the drying guy, and she was the washing gal. It'd always been like that.
He walked up the stairs, already familiar enough with the layout of their house in Westchester to walk the path in the darkness. He hoped that Monica wouldn't be awake – he'd woken up before Jack's crying even stirred her, taking him downstairs so that the new mother could get some uninterrupted sleep.
She was absolutely amazing with the twins, and he loved standing in the kitchen doorway when she didn't know he was there, watching her as she multi-tasked like only a woman knew how, getting everything done and keeping the twins happy. He knew she loved every minute of it, but everyone needed a break once in a while and she was no exception. It was his gift to her.
The second he walked through the door he knew his efforts had been in vain, Monica sitting up with a slightly worried look on her face. She smiled when she saw him in the door, lying back down on the bed relieved as Chandler bent over the crib and placed Jack down beside his sister.
He made his way across the room and under the covers, instantly squirming over to her side of the bed.
"Chandler," she whined sleepily as his icy legs wrapped around hers, stealing her warmth.
"What?" he asked innocently, pulling his face into a boyish pout. She laughed at him, cuddling up in his arms as he held her tightly.
"What were you doing with the twins?" she asked quietly on the verge of sleep. She was working from home so she could care for the twins, catering food as Chandler continued on his advertising gig. They were both doing something they loved, and that alone made Monica happy.
Chandler kissed Monica's head, smiling at her question. "Feeding Jack. I didn't want to wake you up, so I decided to do it myself."
Monica leaned away from Chandler so that she could see his face, and there was a genuine smile lighting it up. "Chandler…" she started, but the words left her. She was overwhelmed by the rush of emotions she felt towards him, not understanding why it effected her so. "That's… you're amazing," she whispered, her eyes beginning to tear either from his thoughtfulness or from being open for too long. "Thank-you."
Chandler didn't know where her gratitude came from but it was making him uncomfortable. "Don't worry about it," he muttered, taking the praise the only way he knew how and deflecting it, "It was nothing," he muttered, feeling his own eyes growing heavy. He filled his face with Monica's hair, finding her hand under the covers and taking hold of it gently. "I love you," he whispered, kissing her softly again. He closed his eyes, hearing Monica's light,
"I love you too," before he blacked out.
Monica snuggled closer to Chandler, her love for the man growing more and more everyday they were together.
That morning after Chandler ate the breakfast Monica made him and bid his wife and the twin's farewell, Monica marched downstairs to do the dishes, finding them already done and neatly stacked away to dry. She smiled at Chandler's small gesture, peering into the sink to see if he'd washed it clean of soap studs.
There, in soap writing, was a note,
No – you're amazing.
I love you, forever and always.