A/N: I'm baaaack! This fic may turn out to be rated R for - get this - mature thematic elements, nudity, violence, and language. Well, okay, no nudity, but if you feel the need to picture one or two characters naked... *cough*Jenni*cough* ;) LOL, just kiddin, hon. Have fun. Oh and thankies to Becca for helping me with the title! Love you gurl!
Okay... not gonna give you any background, you'll figure it out, but the beginning is sort of confusing. I wanted to jump right into it without much explanation, except that the whole group never really met up, but a few of them know each other.
Desire
CHAPTER ONE: The Meeting
She was browsing through a rack of expensive clothes at a trendy boutique on Fifth Avenue when she heard her name being called. "Monica? Monica Geller?"
She turned around, searching for the man who the voice belonged to. He took a step closer to her, a shy smile on his face. With sudden recognition, she grinned.
"Oh my God! Chandler Bing?" she cried. The man grinned even wider, his blue eyes dancing with delight.
"I can't believe you even remember my name," Chandler said. "I figured I'd always remain 'The Boy Who Hates Thanksgiving' with your family."
"No, to me, you're 'The Boy Who's Toe I Chopped off,'" Monica teased back. "How is the toe, anyway?"
"Well, except for the obvious lack of toenail, it's quite fine," Chandler said.
Monica laughed, her first real laugh in days. "My God, how long has it been?"
"Man. Well, I think I last saw you at Ross's wedding, so... seven, eight years?"
"Yeah. Wow." Monica found herself staring at Chandler. She'd had the biggest crush on him when she was younger... and he was still so cute.
"Hey, um, would you like to grab a cup of coffee or a bite to eat or something?" Chandler said. "Actually, we're right near my place, and there's this great little coffee shop next door."
"That's sounds great," Monica said warmly, and followed Chandler out of the boutique. As they walked down the street, she said, "What were you doing in a boutique, anyway?"
"Christmas shopping," Chandler said in a serious voice. Monica looked at him - it was April. "Kidding, Monica," he said. "I was just walking by on my way home from work."
"I'd almost forgotten how hysterical you were," she said dryly.
A few blocks later they walked into the coffeehouse. "Ohh, I get it!" Monica cried suddenly, staring at the name of the café. "Central Perk. That's cute."
They sat down at a small table and ordered quickly. "So, Mon, what've you been up to?" Chandler asked.
"Well, I'm married. His name is Kip Jones," Monica said dully, sighing without realizing it. Chandler's face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered with a sarcastic comment.
"Don't overwhelm me with your excitement," he deadpanned.
"It's just... marriage isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know? I mean, I always thought it would be perfect, that I'd live happily ever after, but... it's not. Kip - I mean, he's great, a really nice guy, but I'm... I'm totally boring you, aren't I?"
"Not at all," Chandler said. "Please, go on. If you want to, I mean..."
Monica looked at Chandler and found that she didn't want to talk about her husband with him. She wanted to pretend she didn't have a husband... that she was free and independent and could do anything she wanted, that she was 20 instead of 30, and that her breasts were quite a bit perkier.
"Actually - I don't want to talk about him. What about you?" she asked, quickly turning the tables.
"Well, I'm in data processing."
"Sounds... interesting," Monica lied.
"Yeah, it's not," Chandler said. "But it pays the bills. I live right up there - " he pointed out the window - "and I'm currently not seeing anybody. And when I say currently, I mean since 1999," he joked. Well, Monica thought, at least I think it was a joke.
After a few seconds of silence, Chandler said, "So how're Ross and Carol? Haven't heard from them in a while."
"Actually, they got divorced, about four years ago," Monica said.
"Really?" Chandler said in surprise. "Why?"
"Carol left him - " Monica started.
"Oh," Chandler said.
" - for another woman," she finished.
Chandler almost dropped his cup of coffee. "You're kidding."
"Nope."
"Wow. A lesbian," Chandler shook his head. "Lucky Ross."
"So then - okay, so then she says, 'But you said you were a Kennedy'!" Chandler cried, finishing a story. Monica burst out laughing, a feeling of total relaxation spreading through her. She wiped tears from her eyes as Chandler shook his head, chuckling. "Needless to say, we never went out again."
"I can't believe that," Monica said. "You are too much."
"Hey, Chandler? We're closing up," said the peroxide-blonde man standing behind the counter. Monica glanced at her watch.
"Oh my God! It's almost nine-thirty! Kip expected me home by..." she trailed off. "Well, I guess I'd better go. My car is parked in a structure near Fifth Avenue."
"It's getting kind of later - I'll walk you out," Chandler said. They left the coffeehouse and stood on the sidewalk, neither wanting to say good-bye. A soft drizzle began to fall.
"I had a really great time today, Chandler," Monica said softly. "I haven't laughed this hard in years."
"I can't believe we haven't talked in so long," Chandler agreed. "When Ross and I were roommates, we used to see each other all the time!" Suddenly, a big fat raindrop fell from the sky and landed square on his nose. Monica giggled and reached up to wipe it off. Her hand strayed away from his nose and lingered on his warm cheek. A spontaneous shiver ran down her spine.
Her body was reacting in old, forgotten ways. Chemistry and magnetism, it was all there, flowing in enormous amounts between her and Chandler. This - she had never felt this for Kip. Kip was... she couldn't even compare this to anything she'd ever felt for Kip. This was pure attraction. How, she wondered, after a few hours, could she feel so pulled to Chandler?
She could feel his warm breath on her hand, and she wondered - could it be possible that he felt the same way? The way he was looking at her, straight into her eyes... he did. Monica knew it.
It wasn't until several seconds later that she realized the rain was falling harder now. Chandler gently seized her hand, and held it between his own two.
"Your hand is freezing," he whispered, looking down at it. His eyelashes were holding raindrops, and when he blinked, they ran down his face like crystal tears. Her hand felt safe in his.
"Do you think I could come warm up at your place?" Monica asked breathily. The rain was coming heavily now - it had gone from a light sprinkle to a downpour in minutes.
"Sure," Chandler said, but neither of them moved. He was still holding her hand.
A giant clap of lightning startled them apart. Monica was suddenly aware that she was soaked through, and shivering from the cold. Thunder boomed, and she saw Chandler mouth, "This way."
She followed him over to the apartment building next door, and hurriedly went inside. It was dryer, but not much warmer, in the lobby. "Third floor," he muttered, and led her up the staircase.
They reached apartment number 19, and he pulled a key out, letting them in. "This is home," he said. "It's not much - I share it with my roommate Joey. Speaking of Joey - Joey? Are you here?" Chandler shook his head. "Of course he's not here. It's Saturday night - Joey's got a date or four."
"Do you think I could get out of these wet clothes?" Monica asked, motioning to her expensive, designer outfit. "I can feel the leather shrinking."
"Sure, I could, um, grab you something of mine," Chandler said, looking her up and down. His eyes lingered on her chest, and Monica remembered that she was wearing a white, almost-see-through-when-dry, totally-see-through-when-wet shirt. A blush crept over her cheeks, but she was flattered and let his eyes linger before turning away. Don't give away the farm all at once, Mon, she reminded herself.
Don't give it away at all! another, harsher voice cried inside her head. Your married - remember? Kip? Your husband?
Monica shoved her thoughts aside and followed Chandler into his bedroom, where he pulled a tee-shirt and sweatpants out of his drawer. He took her to the bathroom and handed her a clean towel.
"I'll just be... in my room," he mumbled, and Monica realized he was trying whole-heartedly not to look at her breasts, but failing miserably.
"Okay," she said. After the door shut, Monica stripped out of her wet clothes and dried herself off with the towel. She saw a bath towel hanging on the back of the door. Leaning forward, she smelled it. Mmm, she thought. It was definitely Chandler's - it smelled of spicy shaving cream and Ivory soap, just like he did.
She was struck with sudden inspiration. Letting Chandler's clothes fall to the ground, she took the robe off the hook and wrapped herself in it. It was warm and cozy. She put her hand on the doorknob and prepared to turn it. She started to consider her decision - but no, there was no time for that. She needed this.
Monica went into the living room and found Chandler standing by the counter. He looked up as she entered, seeing her in the bathrobe, but looking only slightly confused.
She stepped closer to him, and, without warning, untied the bathrobe and shimmied out of it. She was totally naked.
Chandler visibly blanched, but soon a look of quiet happiness came over him, mixed with apprehension. Monica took another step closer, and he did the same.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" he whispered.
"Yes."
A few hours later, Monica lay in Chandler's bed. He brushed a stray curl behind her ear, and she inched closer to him.
"That was amazing," he murmured.
"I know," she said, smiling demurely. It had been amazing. Monica hadn't made love like that for years. It had awakened her, and yet she felt like she was dreaming.
"What about your husband?"
Your husband... your husband...
"I - I don't know," she said, biting her lip.
"Leave him," Chandler suggested. Monica smiled for a second, until she realized that Chandler was totally serious.
"Oh - oh, God, Chandler, I - I couldn't - " she stopped, seeing his crestfallen face.
"Why not?"
"I - I just can't - "
"It was just - sex, wasn't it Monica? Just an escape from your humdrum life?" he said. "A little bit of fun - "
"No! God, Chandler, you - you have know idea what I feel for you," she said, stopping him. "I would leave Kip in a second. It's just - Caitlin." She paused. Chandler looked at her with wide eyes, and she realized that Caitlin had not been mentioned.
"Who's Caitlin?" he asked in a hushed tone.
"My - my daughter," Monica said.
"I see," Chandler said after a minute.
"It would destroy her, Chandler. I can't break up our family. She's only four," she said, pleading with her eyes for forgiveness for the omission of that one crucial fact. "I'm sorry."
"I think you should go," Chandler muttered, turning away.
Monica felt tears spring to her eyes. She didn't want to leave - she couldn't, not after tonight, not after what she felt for him. But - she had to.
"Okay," she said sadly. She went into his bathroom and found her clothes, almost dried, and put them on. As she prepared to leave, Chandler came out of the bedroom, wearing only a pair of sweats. Her fingers ached to touch his bare chest, but she held herself back. Touching him, kissing him again, would only make things worse.
"Bye," she whispered, picked up her purse, and turned to go.
"Wait!" Chandler called. She turned around, and then he kissed her, a long, sweet, tantalizing kiss.
"Give me your number," she murmured into his ear.
"What?"
"Just do it, Chandler," she said. Quickly, he grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled his number. She stuffed it in her purse and kissed him again. Then she turned and hurried away.