Disclaimer: I don't own them, it's 2am so I also don't have any funny remarks to make about the fact I don't own them
All the lights went outChandler's expert gaze swept around him before he sat in his barca lounger, knowing that once he sat down it would be a long time before he got up again. TV remote – check, beer – check, chips –check (with each 'check' he reminded himself to spend less time with Monica before he picked up one of her more dangerously clean habits), everything he needed for another night in the quality company of the television. Unfortunately his hot date was interrupted before it had even begun as his front door swung violently open, slamming spectacularly against the fridge. Giving back as good as it got the door bounced off the fridge and straight back into the face of the bedraggled and obviously irate figure standing in it's doorway.
Chandler had to bite back both his urge to laugh and his urge to run for his life as he took in the site before him. A newly injured Monica was standing clutching her nose which was beginning to bleed steadily. Her hair looked like it had been in a fight – and lost – as rain water streamed from it in rivulets, making a path onto what Chandler knew was a new (now new ruined) dress. Her other hand clutched a shoe – now minus it's stiletto heel, explaining to Chandler why Monica was rather lopsided, despite the fact he'd only had one beer. Most importantly her eyes betrayed a very real need to murder someone.
Deciding he'd rather not be a sacrifice to female hormones Chandler stayed as still as possible, hoping that maybe Monica would decide she was imagining his presence and would leave to go kill some other unsuspecting member of the male population. No such luck.
"Are you going to just sit there Chandler? I'm wet, bleeding and very, very mad. I swear if I have to deal with one more of your stupid species tonight I will, I will…"
Monica's increasing pitch and volume alerted Chandler to the extreme danger of the situation. Leaping into action before she deafened herself, Chandler lead her gently to the sink,
" Now you stand there and bleed into the sink," Chandler theorised that is was probably the bloody mess that she was making of his kitchen floor, more than anything else, that was bothering her, " whilst I get you some tissues, some towels…maybe some tranquillisers." He ran off before he could see the glare that Monica was inevitably aiming at him.
Returning from the bathroom several minutes later (and cursing Joey for not leaving at least one towel off the floor) Chandler was pleased and more than a little relieved to find Monica coming out of her blinding rage. Her eyes no longer held that special glint that only appeared when she was going to yell at someone or clean (neither of which Chandler enjoyed) and she'd stopped clutching her shoe like some sort of primitive weapon. Still a little wary despite this, Chandler timidly handed her the bundle tissues and dirty towels. He was about to back away again when he noticed the tiny tear drops that were mixing with the blood and water dripping into the sink. He was at her side immediately, wrapping a comforting arm around her wet shoulder
"Hey Mon it's okay," he said, tightening his hug as a choked sob escaped her throat.
"No,no it's not," she sniffed loudly, "I have just had the date from hell. I mean seriously is there somewhere in New York that manufactures these losers to go out with me to raise my failed date total higher than it already is? As if that's not enough it rains when I'm walking home – that's right walking cause apparently cab drivers hate me too – then I trip just as I'm walking into the building and break my shoe, gotta say I'm surprised it wasn't my ankle, and to cap it all off I get attacked….by a door."
At least half her speech was unintelligible as she buried her head into his shoulder but Chandler got the general gist – she'd had a date from hell, again, and he'd be there to hold and support her, tell her everything would be okay, again. And yet again he'd watch her walk away into the arms of some other jerk whilst he stood ready to pick up the pieces. Forever the best friend, never the boyfriend.
Chandler didn't know just when he'd started to develop his all consuming crush on Monica, and that's all it was, a crush, he told himself repeatedly everyday like a mantra, but he knew it was totally inappropriate, totally unacceptable…and totally unavoidable. Try as he might (which wasn't really that hard) he couldn't stop his heart beating faster when she threw him a friendly smile or when she cuddled up to him innocently. He couldn't stop himself wanting more.
They stood in each other's arms, Monica seeking friendship, Chandler wishing for more until Monica stopped sniffing and began to hiccup. Pulling away from him Monica looked guiltily at his shirt which was now covered in an interesting mixture of blood and mascara.
"I'm sorry I ruined your shirt," she said, biting her lip with the concern that only a cleaning obsessive could have.
"It's okay, it's an old one," he lied as he handed her a glass of water, "so do you wanna talk about it?" he asked seeing she'd calmed down enough to form coherent sentences.
"I know we usually do Chandler but I just wanna go home, curl up in bed and forget this whole day ever existed…unfortunately I can't because Rachel is out on a no doubt fantastic date, the door's locked and I've forgotten my keys."
Chandler seriously didn't know what to be more amazed at,
"Okay firstly you actually lock your door?!! And secondly you, Monica, actually forgot your keys?!!"
Seeing the glint returning to Monica's eyes Chandler hastily backtracked, "we have spare keys Mon, just give me a minute and I'll go get them for you."
"If you don't mind Chandler can I just stay here tonight?" she turned apleading gaze upto his face, "…please."
At that precise moment in time Chandler would have said yes to pretty much anything she had asked. The combination of her eyes and the warmth of her hand pressed into his own was making it very difficult for him to think, let alone speak. Gathering up all his remaining sense he forced himself to snap out of it and smiled down at her.
"Sure you cam. But if you won't talk you have to promise we can do the next best thing."
"What's that?" she asked curiously
"Get drunk of course!"
Several hours and several too many beers later Monica lay sprawled across Chandler on the barca lounger, laughing into his chest at his 'peacock bit me' story, despite the fact she'd heard it many times before
Chandler could tell she'd had more than enough by the way her body was leaning heavily on his and her head was lolling against his chest, only lifting to release a sporadic giggle. He had also decided that being in such close proximity to Monica when he too was more than a little worse for wear was a very bad idea. The alcohol in his system was making it very hard for him to fight against his urge to lean in and kiss her every time she lifted her head. Whilst his brain was engaged in trying to stop this he had very little control over his hands. Currently one was entwined with hers whilt the other was innocently stroking her hair but Chandler figured it was best to quit whilst he was ahead, before his hands wandered and earned him a slap.
" K Mon I'm gonna go to bed." He told her firmly as he lifted off him, staggered precariously, then placed her back down on the barca lounger before he dropped her. His plan to just walk away hit a snag when he realised she hadn't let go of his hand.
"Please stay here Chandler," she asked, again fixing a pleading gaze on him.
'I didn't stand a chance refusing her when I was sober, it's really not fair asking me when I'm drunk,' Chandler thought to himself. His brain registered through his drunken blur just how good she looked sitting in his chair with his shirt on (that she'd borrowed when he insisted she change out of her wet clothes) The top button had come undone, revealing a hint of cleavage and it's hem barely covered her bare legs which were stretched out infront of her as she leant forward, '…especially when she's looking like that,' he added to himself as he slumped back down onto the chair.
Monica threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer until the whole length of her body was pressed against his. Just when Chandler was beginning to think he was the luckiest man alive he realised that her breath, that was hot against his neck, was slow and deep, and that every so often a soft snore would come from her mouth. Monica had fallen asleep.
She came in from stormy weather
Asked her friend to be there with her
She slid down cupids bow
Oh looking fine that day
TBC
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