"Hello!" With a chipper hop in his step, Chandler opened the apartment door without so much as a knock. After all, it was practically his place too at this point. Spotting the familiar dark-haired girl, wrapped in towels after a shower, Chandler pointed to her. "Do you have any beers? We're out of beers."
His cheerful mood made Monica's bland response seem that much flatter. "Help yourself," she mumbled as she began to retreat to her room without a second glance. Halting his enthusiasm, Chandler pushed the thoughts of Baywatch and his cool new roommate aside to quickly focus his concerns on his friend.
"You okay?"
It seemed like a simple enough inquiry but as Monica's face contorted between sadness and disappointment, it became obvious that it was actually a very loaded question. Chandler waited patiently as Monica found her words, arms wrapping protectively around her small frame.
"Phoebe moved out," she mumbled as she looked to Chandler, hurt in her normally vibrant blue eyes.
"Right." He paused for a hanging moment. He'd known about Phoebe since Ross spilled the beans last week and also knew it would find its way to Monica in time, but that didn't make her current demeanor any easier to swallow.
"I don't understand. Am I so hard to live with?" He saw the familiar panic and doubt settling into Monica as she begged him for answers. "Is this why I don't have a boyfriend?"
"No!" It was instinctive and he searched his brain to find the right words, although it was doubtful he would. He never seemed to say the right thing. "You don't have a boyfriend because..." He laughed nervously, stalling. "I-I don't know why you don't have a boyfriend," Chandler confessed. "You should have a boyfriend."
He waited for her response anxiously, unsure if his words were helpful in the slightest. Monica curled into herself slightly and sent Chandler a timid look. "Well I think so," she replied in a small voice.
"Come here." His arms outstretched to envelope her in a hug as he fought off the small bubble of laughter that had been provoked by her endearing answer. "Come here, listen. You are one of my favorite people and the most beautiful woman I've ever known in real life."
There was nothing but sincerity behind his words and Chandler prayed that she could see that. For as hard headed as she could be at times, Monica knew him well enough, and as she leaned into his embrace further, he knew he'd been well received.
She was significantly shorter than him and he easily rested his chin on her head as they swayed slightly, her damp hair cool against his skin. There was a sense of peace in the act that was foreign to him. He'd never been someone who'd found comfort in physical contact yet he felt completely at ease with Monica tucked against his lanky body. There was something strangely freeing and intimate about it that he couldn't quite put his finger on, although he wasn't highly concerned with the reason behind it.
His throat buzzed with a content hum. "This is nice," he admitted frankly. And there it was; his fumble with words he has seen coming since he'd first asked if she was okay. With Chandler, it always seemed to be a matter of when rather than if he would say something stupid.
"I know it is, isn't it?"
A small sense of panic set in and Chandler was caught between embarrassment over his admission and happiness over hers. Did she mean it? And what if she did, what the hell did that mean? His body shifted nervously against her and he fought his thoughts for a long, silent moment.
"No, I mean it this feels really good," he continued, a different plan forming in mind now in hopes of easing the knot tight in his stomach. "Is it 100% cotton?"
"Yeah," she chuckled, looking up at him with the brightness returning to her gaze. It was a pleasant sight and knowing that his joke was dissolving an awkward moment made him relax once again. "And I got it on sale too," she added.
His own laughter filled the apartment and he stared down at the girl holding him. There was a special kind of adoration that he harbored for Monica. They were polar opposites at times and identical at others. He was constantly reminded of why he liked her so much and as he reveled in the victory of cheering her up, he noticed the looks she was returning.
Swallowing hard, two pairs of blue eyes held one another and a weird sensation stirred in his chest. Why was she looking at him like that? And why was he looking at her the same way? Friends don't hold each other and stare longingly at one another, and yet, there they were, arms enveloping one another and the silence of the apartment seemed deafening.
Had she been serious with her response to his outburst? She couldn't be, it was Monica, after all. His best friend's little sister and one of his nearest and dearest friends. And yet, despite her slow and deliberate movements, Chandler couldn't seem to catch up with what she was doing next. Pushing herself upwards onto her toes to make herself taller, Monica looked at him with caution and curiosity in her eyes before they fluttered closed.
He was greeted with a warm, gentle kiss that he made no effort to retreat from. It was chaste and innocent enough yet no less shocking than if she had flung herself on him and jumped his bones. Against everything his brain was telling him, Chandler allowed the kiss to continue and felt a small prick of disappointment when the embrace finally broke. Monica made no moves to further herself from Chandler and instead stayed locked close to him. However, as if the exchange was just then becoming real to her, he watched as her gaze averted and her body tensed in his arms.
"I'm sorry," she muttered; untangling from Chandler and taking a step backwards, thin fingers sweeping nervously through her dark hair. For a passing moment, he swore he was disappointed. Albeit thoroughly confused, it was not enough to keep him from abruptly stopping whatever the hell was going on.
"I should go," he said hurriedly. His fingers swept across his lips that still had the remnants of her kiss lingering on them. Pressing his mouth into a hard line, he took a sharp step away. "One of the lifeguards was just about to dismantle a nuclear device."
Through small bouts nervous laughter and backwards glances, Chandler made his way to the door. He half expected Monica to stop him and demand that they talk out the situation but as his eyes flitted back and forth between the door and the girl he was fleeing from, he saw the same confused and concerned look that he wore etched across her features.
"Listen," he spoke up, his hand resting uneasily on the doorknob, gripping it far tighter than necessary. "It's-it's gonna be-"
It's gonna be okay, he tried to spit out but Monica interrupted before he could fumble out the words.
"I know." A small smile graced her lips. "Thanks."
Chandler's grip loosened and he pulled open the door to the hall, quickly closing it behind him. An exasperated breath puffed from his lungs loudly and he was left alone with his racing thoughts. They overwhelmed him but he knew he'd been gone far too long already. He didn't need Joey asking questions about his whereabouts – he wouldn't even know what to say if he asked. Pacing briefly, he collected himself until he was calm enough to return to his apartment with a straight face.
The couch was far from comfortable but it wasn't the stiff cushions that had Chandler tossing and turning all night. His room had felt suffocating for whatever reason and the couch and television seemed like a good alternative. He could easily lull to sleep watching bad news and sprawling out underneath his comfiest blanket, right?
Wrong.
Chandler's mind had no intentions of allowing him any sleep. As the news flashed across the worn television set, the couch creaked and squeaked under his incessant shifting. Stuck on overdrive, more so than usual at least, his thoughts had been focused on the unexpected moment he had shared with Monica and the frustration he felt over not being able to stop thinking about it.
Grumbling unhappily, he tossed off his blanket and stood up groggily, deciding to attempt his bedroom once again to see if he'd have any luck. Scooping his pillow and the blanket into his arms, he had to stop and listen when he thought he heard a noise.
Taking a step backwards and turning off the television to hear better, he was statuesque, standing completely still and listening again. There was the faint patter of footsteps directly outside of the front door. Placing his belongings back on the couch soundlessly, careful steps led him to the door in near silence.
Admittedly nervous, an unsteady hand grasped the doorknob and opened it unsurely. Chandler peeked out into the dark hall for a moment for his eyes fell on someone just across the way. His uneasiness settled as he narrowed his eyes to see better and made out who the figure was.
"Mon?"
She turned immediately and offered him a sheepish smile. Holding her robe tightly around her body, she looked uncomfortable as she took a few reluctant steps back towards his apartment.
"Sorry, I thought maybe-" She paused and Chandler waited for her to finish her thought, curious.
"Thought maybe you'd give me a heart attack by making me think there was an intruder?" he offered with a quiet chuckle. "I know you're upset but you can't kill me and take my apartment, no matter how hot you think Joey is."
Black hair cascaded downwards as she dipped her head to laugh. Covering her mouth to quiet herself, Chandler was reminded of the time. Peeking backwards into the kitchen, the stove clock read 2:31am. Allowing the sleepiness to fall over him once again now that the adrenaline of the moment had faded, Chandler leaned lazily against his door frame. He was brimming with curiosity but he didn't dare give it away by acting like…well, like his usual, spastic self. "What are you doing up so late?"
"I didn't know if you'd be awake," she explained with another step closer, her features growing more visible as she came near. "I just-um-well..."
"You're starting to sound like me," Chandler teased softly. He hoped it put her at ease. "What's up, Mon?"
She remained silent and looked unsettled; scared even, and there was a small part of him that hoped he was the reason just as she was to blame for his sleepless night. The passing thought was absurd but inhibited him nonetheless.
He was given an answer in time, but not in any way he'd anticipated. It wasn't with another vague reply or stuttered sentence. No, he was answered with a moment so charged, he was almost knocked off of his feet – although truthfully Monica was at fault as she took one long step and flung her arms around his shoulders, nearly pushing him over with her enthusiasm.
He caught her with little grace and had only just regained his balance when she kissed him again, this time fevered and passionate. Entangled and stumbling into his apartment, he felt the heat rush to his face and Chandler's hands instinctively steadied Monica in his embrace. As the two of them clamored into the kitchen, the room seemingly spinning around them, Chandler got the impression that there was going to be a different reason for a sleepless night.