A/N:: I'm back! It's been a while! I've been doing some exams- not especially fun, but unfortunately necessary... and time consuming, so I've had less time than I'd like to write. So, Dream A Little Dream (another Ella Fitzgerald), is set season 4, pre-Mondler/Mondler-get-together. It ties back into canon, so is AU, but still fits into the overall arc of the show. I've always felt there was something between them before they got together; and, whilst I do love the London episodes, I was always a little disappointed at the almost anti-climactic way it played out... just an opinion! Anyway, enjoy, I own nothing!
Dream A Little Dream
Chandler couldn't honestly say that he was paying much attention to whatever Gene Kelly was warbling on about on the TV, splashing his way up and down the street. It hadn't even been this film the last he'd known- which had presumably been several hours earlier, given the dark sky visible through the window, - when he'd wandered back into the apartment. He'd left apartment 20 when Monica had left to go on a date with- well he had no idea who.
Joey had also left on a date- the first of two tonight apparently. Ross and Rachel had both wandered off in opposite directions- clearly not fully on speaking terms- between the awkwardness that was Rachel's clear envy over Ross and Emily (although apparently not to evident to herself), and the lingering tension that seemed to follow them wherever they went.
Chandler rolled his eyes as Gene started to duet with his umbrella; would those two ever get it together enough to realise how desperately in love with each other they obviously were! Well, it was obvious to everyone else, at least. It'd probably take a wedding to make them see it, stubborn as they both were.
As Gene finally finished splashing about onscreen, Chandler stood, flicked the switch to turn off the TV, and started to head toward the inviting bliss of bed, checking the time as he did so- no wonder it was dark out, he mused; it was gone 1 in the morning! Last he'd known, it had been about 9.
He pushed Joey's door open slightly, to check on the whereabouts of his oft-absent room-mate. The darkened room was empty- not that Chandler was especially surprised; Joey had had two dates tonight- if he hadn't ended up with at least one of them, well. That would have been more likely than Ross and Rachel ever resolving this seemingly eternal feud.
He was about to get ready for bed when a loud thud sounded from the corridor, followed seconds later by a slightly softer bang against the door of the apartment. He stilled, halfway between his room and the bathroom. Heart pounding embarrassingly loudly, Chandler grabbed the nearest heavy-looking object- mindful that this was New York after all- and gingerly peered through the peep hole. Sat opposite, leaning up against the door to Apartment 20 sat Monica, shoes strewn over the floor, makeup staining her cheeks.
Chandler's heart sank for her- the date clearly hadn't gone well, then. She'd been so excited too, bouncing around the apartment earlier, she hadn't even noticed when Ross had put both feet up on the coffee table, and when it came to Monica, that was saying something.
He pulled the door open, discarding the rolling pin he'd grabbed as an impromptu weapon back onto the countertop (it was definitely Monica's anyway- he didn't think either he or Joey had ever bought kitchen utensils for themselves), and knelt down by Monica, who by this point had pulled her knees up to her chest, and buried her face in her hands. Chandler cleared his throat anxiously; crying women were definitely not his forte, but a crying Monica? He had to at least try to help.
She looked up, red rimmed eyes meeting his blurrily, and she frowned in confusion- so she'd been drinking then. It came as a slight surprise- usually drunk Monica meant loud giggles and high confidence, clearly the opposite of tonight. It was possible, though, he considered, as her face cleared, realising where she was, and who he was, that he'd just never seen a Monica who'd been drinking because she was as upset as she clearly was. After all, the tearful Monica that sat before him was a far cry from the in-control version of herself he knew she liked to project- a clear sign that she had to have some alcohol in her system to let anyone see her like this.
Chandler rubbed a hand down her arm, unsure of what to do or say to avoid making her more upset, so he settled for asking what he considered a fairly safe question. In the gentlest tone he could muster, Chandler voiced some of his (admittedly quite considerable) confusion about the situation he had found himself in during the early hours of the morning.
"Mon? Sweetie, why're you on the floor out here? You wanna go back into your apartment?" as she seemed reluctant to move or answer him, he quickly added; "I could get Rachel if you'd rather?"
His heart sank further, as her face crumpled, and she began to cry in earnest, burying her head back in her hands. To try and calm her, and slightly spurred on by the fact that she didn't seem to prefer the option of Rachel over him to try and calm her tonight, he ran his hand up and down her back soothingly, shuffling so he was sat alongside her. Relief filled him as she spun around, and buried her face against his shirt, fingers curling in the fabric.
The first few words she spoke into the darkness of the empty corridor were somewhat incomprehensible- muffled by both his shirt and her tears. When he finally could make them out, Chandler's chest clenched painfully, and he gathered her closer to him, pressing his cheek against her hair.
"What's wrong with me? Rachel's in love with Ross, and she's still dating someone!" The words were now being wailed into the night, Chandler's pitiful attempts at soothing her clearly having little effect. "Why am I not good enough?"
Chandler hadn't really understood the phrase heart-broken before. He'd assumed he knew what it meant- had thought he'd experienced something along those lines when the disaster that had been his relationship with Kathy had ended, but hadn't felt the all-consuming anguish that he'd heard heartbreak described as. He'd been upset- devastated even- the long days in the Barcalounger had proven that- but this was on another level entirely. Tears filled his own eyes, as he pulled Monica closer to his chest, attempting to ease his own grief. She curled in to him, pressing her cheek near to his heart, as he blinked back the painful prickling in his eyes, attempting to focus on her.
"Monica, I don't know what happened tonight, but please, please," He begged, tilting her face up to meet his, fingers gently guiding her chin from its rest near his heart. "You've got to promise me you'll never say that again. You're the best person I know, and you'll always be good enough, especially to me." He took a deep breath, gauging the level of alcohol in her bloodstream, and reasoning that she was so upset that he'd do anything to calm her, even tell her the full truth. "I love you so much, Mon, and I don't even think you know. But I do, and you'll always be good enough."
Monica blinked slowly, before nodding once, and returning to bury her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely in place as his mind began to race. Thankfully, Chandler considered, she was drunk, and so if she even remembered what he'd just said, she likely would attribute solely to a friend comforting another friend in their time of need. Truthfully he'd never properly acknowledged the feelings he had for her in his mind, let alone aloud, but there was just something in him that refused to let her suffer if he had any say.
He couldn't say how long they sat like that for, her crying softly into his shirt, him rubbing soft circles into her back, but eventually her sobs quietened, and Chandler became aware that she'd quite simply cried herself to sleep. Gradually, and carefully so as not to wake her, he stood, scooping her into his arms as he did so, and toed open the door to Apartment 19. He considered the purple walled apartment briefly, but was unsure whether that idea was wise, given that at least some of her upset seemed to have stemmed from Rachel and her new boyfriend Joshua. That, and he really didn't want to risk waking Rachel and facing her considerable ire from doing so. Padding across the living room, Chandler strode into his room, figuring she'd be more comfortable there than in Joey's bed for the night.
Placing her gently onto the bed, and forcing any inappropriate thoughts about her being there- definitely not the time- Chandler gently stroked her hair away from her face, and placed a soft kiss against her forehead. He rose, heading first to the corridor to collect her discarded shoes, then to Joey's room to crash on his bed tonight, before pausing in the doorway. Monica looked so peaceful, lying quietly under the sheet he'd placed over her.
A smile tugged its way onto his lips, as he considered the woman laying before him. It was worth it. To try and calm her, to attempt to help her, it had been worth giving up the biggest secret he didn't even know he'd been keeping. It would, however, be even better if she could just not remember that part, and spare him the utter embarrassment of rejection though.
Shaking his head, he turned to head back into the living room. As he did, he couldn't help but wish, in a soft whisper to a nearly silent apartment; "Sweet dreams, Mon."
Monica wasn't entirely sure what had woken her first, the sunlight streaming through the open window, or the pounding in her head, but whatever it had been would have been better advised to consider that she would have preferred a few more hours sleep. Or, as she groaned, trying to sit up and failing spectacularly, flopping back onto the pillows, eyes screwed up against the offending sun, a few more years sleep may have been better. Monica reached an arm out for the usual glass of water that she kept by her bedside, and frowned when her hand ran into about five unfamiliar items that she didn't recognise, and no glass. Oh God.
She sat up sharply, ignoring the protest from her throbbing head, heart racing, and opened her eyes, looking frantically around her surroundings. She couldn't have gone home with a stranger last night could she? She didn't think she'd been that drunk but- her thought process froze as her mind finally caught up to what she was seeing. Chandler's room. Oh God again. She hadn't slept with him had she? Not, she mused, that she'd have been overly against the idea, but he definitely would have been, and it would be impossible for her to go back to being just friends, and how was she going to tell him and-. No. She hadn't slept with him last night, she concluded as fragments of the night in question slowly pieced themselves together in her mind. Thank God.
Not, again, that she'd have been opposed to the thought, more that she was so far gone in terms of her feelings towards him- feelings she thought, rather triumphantly, that she'd done a good job of keeping secret- that she'd never be able to go back to being just friends.
Though, the question still remained as to how she had ended up in his bed. Monica rubbed her temples, urging her mind to put together the fragments of memory slowly resolving themselves in her brain. She should, she thought, be able to remember most of it- she'd not had, as far as she could recall, too much to drink. So, then. Last night.
Monica knew she'd gone out for a date with Alex (well, a set up that Rachel had been responsible for- a man in her office who had recently split up with his girlfriend and who had been asking for a blind date for around a week before Monica had finally given in.). It had been disastrous. He'd spent the entire time moaning about his ex-girlfriend, and drinking glass after glass of wine. After about an hour, he'd begun to sob into his main course, and had announced that anyone single over the age of about 27 was pathetic, himself included. Needless to say, the date had not ended well.
Monica remembered making sure he was safely in a cab home- she didn't envy the taxi driver- Alex had looked distinctly green around the face- before an unexpected wave of melancholy had hit her. It had been so long since her last meaningful relationship- Pete. And look how that had ended- he'd chosen some stupid fighting match over her- his dream sure, but how long would that last? He'd seen everything as some challenge that he needed to conquer- including getting her to like him.
And everyone she knew had had some kind of meaningful relationship over the past six months at least! Ross had Emily, Joey and Chandler had both fallen for Kathy, Phoebe- well. Phoebe was an unknown variable at the best of times, but she always seemed to have a man on her arm whenever she felt the need. And Rachel, Rachel who was still so evidently in love with Ross that it was painfully obvious to everyone except the pair in question, had a boyfriend- Joshua. She was the odd one out. And why? Well, if she knew that, maybe she could fix whatever was clearly wrong with her.
Monica groaned, as she remembered hurrying to the nearest bar, where she'd proceeded to spend the next two or so hour nursing a series of scotches. When the bar had closed, she'd called a cab, and headed back to the apartment, intent on curling up in her bed, and sleeping for the next, well, forever. But, when she'd returned, she'd found the door locked- Rachel had clearly taken the robbery a few blocks down seriously, and herself without a key. She remembered crying both out of frustration, the alcohol she'd consumed, and the pure anguish at her inability to be good enough for someone.
Finally deeming her headache dulled enough to get up, Monica stood, and peeled off the dress and tights from the previous night, before tugging an old shirt of Chandler's over her head. It hung to her knees, and smelt comfortingly of him. She frowned, as another memory from the night before made itself known to her. Chandler had found her in the hallway, curled against the door to Apartment 20. She'd been full out sobbing, she supposed, at that point, probably incoherently rambling about her insecurities, when he'd wrapped her in a hug, which felt, even from memory, safe and comforting.
"You're the best person I know." Huh. The memory of Chandler's voice, soft and gentle, floated through her memory- clearly she had been more coherent than she'd thought in her tears last night.
"You'll always be good enough," He must have been trying to stop her crying, attempting the best he could to comfort her. A wry smile tugged at her lips. If only he knew how much that meant to her- but no. It was too risky. "Especially to me." Well, that was new. Monica shook her head decisively, then winced at the pain it caused. It meant nothing- there was no point in getting her hopes up. He was Chandler, adorably awkward at giving comfort. He'd have probably said anything to get her to stop crying, though she appreciated the sentiment.
He must have let her cry herself to sleep, then carried her through here to let her spend the night. She didn't blame him- he'd have had to knock to get Rachel's attention if she were to return to Apartment 20 last night, and that would have been tantamount to high treason in the world of Rachel.
So why, then, did it feel like she was missing something? It was nothing, Monica concluded, rising from the bed, where she'd sat back down to finish recollecting the previous night. Nothing more than a hopeful imagination. Except-
"I love you so much, Mon, and I don't even think you know. But I do, and you'll always be good enough."
Except that. Monica sat back down rather heavily, heart racing, pounding against her chest with hope filling her veins. She forced herself to be calm, taking several deep calming breaths, before standing, and opening the door to the main room of the apartment. Chandler was stood with his back to her at the sink, wearing the same shirt and trousers he had been the previous night, rinsing out a glass.
Nerves gripped at her heart, but before she could back out, Monica cleared her throat, causing him to jump slightly, and spin round to her. His eyes softened perceptibly as they landed on her, and a smile pulled his lips upwards, strengthening her resolve.
"Hey, Mon. How're you feeling?" He beat her to speaking first, but she clutched every bit of courage she had to ask the question she had a feeling she would either thank herself or hate herself for doing for a long time to come.
"Did you mean it? Last night. Did you mean what you said?" He jumped visibly, eyes widening, and face paling rapidly. Monica was filled with a sudden, and unexpected rush of affection for the man before her, and his evident panic, which was only equalled by the hope that the reaction he had just given didn't mean he regretted his words. She would have to tread carefully. "You don't have to say it again, Chandler. Please. Just- did you mean it?" She hoped that by giving him a way to confirm what he'd said without forcing him to say it again would make it easier.
He stilled, still visibly anxious, and seemed to have some kind of internal battle, before giving a small, tight nod. Monica gave a quiet sigh of relief, before nerves of a different kind seemed to overtake her. Nerves of the good sort- nerves tinged with hope. Nerves for what she was about to do.
Without giving herself time to second guess, she strode forward, before reaching up on her tiptoes and brushing his lips with hers. A jolt of electricity sparked through her, before terror gripped her. Chandler stood stock-still, not responding to her action. Had she misread the intent behind his words last night? His confirmation this morning? Had he not told her what she had thought last night- had her tired and slightly hungover mind conjured them up in a fit of imaginative hope? And most importantly, and most devastatingly, had she just ruined the best friendship, most important relationship she had in her life through one simple action?
Her world restarted again with a jolt as he eventually responded, reaching down and pressing his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. Eventually the need to breathe became a priority, and they parted, Monica coming down from her tiptoes, resting her head against Chandler's shoulder, and Chandler pressing his cheek against her hair.
"Yeah," he murmured, after a moment that could have lasted a second, or an eternity, "I meant it, Mon."
As it turned out, it did take a wedding for Rachel to see that she was in love with Ross- Ross whom had just potentially ruined his own marriage before it had even truly begun by uttering Rachel's name instead of Emily. Thus had ensued a frantic few hours, of trying to find Emily (she'd climbed out of the window), soothe Ross ("I don't care about the stupid band!"), calm Rachel ("He said my name!") and, well, ignore Joey's plans to sleep with the other bridesmaid (again), before Chandler could eventually retire to his room to try and get a few hours' sleep before the whole situation re-booted in the morning. As he pushed open his door, he noticed a figure curled on the bed. Monica.
After the Night -And-Subsequent-Morning-That-Changed-His-Life (as Chandler had come to call it, rather catchily, he thought) he and Monica had embarked upon somewhat of a secret relationship. It wasn't as though they never wanted to tell their friends, only they preferred that the first few weeks- months- remained out of the public circus that it would undoubtedly become if they told their well-meaning but rather meddlesome friends. The current circus of Ross's wedding, and Rachel's feelings, and Phoebe and the triplets had given the couple a certain amount of safety in that their friends were too consumed by the current drama to go looking for any more.
Monica must have sneaked over from the room she was now apparently sharing with Rachel, only to find him missing, and attempt to stay up and wait. Chandler cursed Ross in his head- he'd had him and Joey roaming the streets of London trying to find an apology gift to send to Emily at 11 at night- needless to say, they'd had very little luck. Joey had complained the entire time about missing his bridesmaid, only to find her waiting for him in the lobby of the hotel as soon as they'd returned. He guessed he'd be seeing very little of his room-mate until they caught the flight back to New York in the morning. Chandler settled onto the bed, having changed into his pyjamas, and contemplated waking Monica- before catching a glimpse of the dark shadows beneath her eyes, and deciding it was better to let her sleep. There'd be time for that when they returned to New York- and Monica would need her rest to deal with the Rachel-and-Ross Saga that would no doubt have only grown by the time they returned.
He stroked the hair back from her face, and placed a kiss to her forehead, before settling back and closing his eyes also. Before he drifted off, he murmured to Monica softly "Sweet dreams, Mon".
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me
A/N:: Well, there we go! That took on a life of its own! I wasn't going to include the scene in London, but I wanted to see how it would fit back into canon, and thought that it tied off the story nicely. As I said, I'm always going to love the London episodes, because it's the start of Mondler, but I will probably also always be slightly disappointed by how it happened. Anyway, let me know what you thought in a review, and feel free to leave/send me any prompts; with exams over, I should have more time to write!