A/N: Here's another Mondler Stealth story, titled Dearest Smoochie in memory of a favorable word our director used during rehearsals. Hope y'all enjoy it, MERRY FRIGGEN CHRISTMAS ( or HOLIDAYS if you don't celebrate it) and HAPPY BLASTED NEW YEAR!! Have a good one.
Please review :)
Dearest Smoochie;
Playful teasing was a sound that could usually be heard through the door of the boys' apartment, just across the hall.
Playful teasing and threatening statements were also another commonly heard sound that could be heard if the eavesdropper in question was listening particularly closely.
Odd noises that sounded impeccably alike to various objects breaking, followed closely by one of their duo exclamations of 'Cool!' were trusted to be just that, and was generally a cause for the grabbing of the closest protective gear and/or fire extinguisher upon entry.
Chandler's quietly quick, almost embarrassed urging and Joey's teasing laughter was another typical sound, although it struck fear in Monica's heart as she pressed her ear against the wooden door, debating whether or not to go inside. Not because the sound was unusual or odd; but because the scramble to exit the apartment just before Joey left the shower had resulted in her spontaneous expulsion from the room with her jeans feeling awfully up close and personal with her skin in a certain area…
She turned around, feeling the blush beginning to make its way into her cheeks; she didn't have to go in there, right?
Taking a step back to her apartment, guilt began to wash over her like water steeped in tea, stopping her in her tracks. She wasn't possibly suggesting that she'd leave Chandler to fend for himself against the likes of Joey? God forbid Chandler snap and tell him, their secret would be out by the time they were ready to move to the next level.
Monica would just have to iron man herself, go in there and figure out a way to distract Joey from the worse case scenario she feared. She knocked on the door while contemplating different diversion strategies. She could always just flash him if all else failed.
That would probably work…
"Who is it?" Chandler asked, his voice sounding weak even when taking into account she had heard him through a door.
Monica sighed. Of course this was happening to them, it always did. "It's me, Monica," she said, and heard the door being opened.
Why hadn't she just barged right in again? It wasn't like the boys' didn't do it all the time to their place.
Joey's smirking face was the first thing she saw when he opened the door for her, gleaming like a light up lollipop. Chandler looked either very defeated or very relieved at her presence, standing over by the counter, but her sight was immediately drawn to the ladle, HER ladle, clutched tightly in Joey's hand, off of which was hanging a pair of black, laced panties.
She fought for the ability to keep her face in a neutral expression and shade, feeling her cheeks burn up regardless of her effort. When the hell had she lost the ability to multi-task?
Probably about the same time that she'd started fooling around with Chandler… damn, that guy was always on her mind!
"Chandlers got a smoochie!" Joey laughed, waving around the underwear.
Her underwear.
Oh God, her face was lighting up again. Wait a second… "A smoochie, Joe?" Monica asked skeptically, raising her eyebrow. Chandler buried his head in his hands, knowing that he was going to be embarrassed soon, whether he liked it or not.
"Yeah," Joey nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "A smoochie. You know, someone he's all mushy and lovey-dovey with," he turned back to Chandler, a teasing grin on his face.
Chandler made a half-hearted attempt at grabbing the… object in question, his face probably as red, if not more, then hers.
Between the two of them it looked like the Fourth of July, Joey's face amazingly maintaining his perfectly smooth glow and light peach hue. How envious she was of his blissful ignorance to just what was happening…
"Chandlers got a smoochie! Who is it Chandler?" he asked, his voice getting higher. Chandler made one more futile attempt at grabbing it, running his hand through his hair in frustration when he predictably missed.
"Common Joe." Chandler sighed, resign apparent in his voice, "I don't tease you like this when you bring… smoochies over," the word embarrassed him, and he tried hard not to look in Monica's direction.
Joey shook his head, beginning to twirl the underwear with the ladle. Monica felt herself become faint at the situation. There was only a slight possibility of being caught - they'd been in more dire situations before, but this was by far the most uncomfortable yet.
"I never bring smoochies over," Joey explained, "Only girls I have sex with. Smoochies are strictly looove," he drew out the word, and Chandler bit his lip. "Who's the smoochie Chandler?" Joey asked again, and Chandler shook his head; Monica could see that he was slowly becoming angry, and she knew why. He knew that those panties were hers, and Joey was saying indirectly that he was in love with whomever those panties belonged to. 'Love' was too big of a commitment for him at this time, and she understood it; they needed to take it slow.
"No-one Joey, leave it alone!" Chandler stood up and stalked over to the couch.
Joey looked after him confused, placing the ladle down onto the top of the counter. He seemed a little hurt by Chandler's reaction, obviously not realizing sooner that this was somewhat of a sensitive issue for him. Monica decided to step in and play peacekeeper,
"Joe, if you want, I have a lasagna waiting in the oven just for you…"
Joey's attention redirected and he turned around eagerly to face her. "Really?" he asked, his eyes gleaming. Monica was the best lasagna cook he knew, though it was a little suspicious that she would bake one for him for no apparent reason…
"It's national Italian day," Monica quickly covered, sensing Joey's doubtfulness. "You're Italian, right?" she asked, and he nodded.
If Monica said it was National Italian day, then there was lasagna that was to be eaten with no more need for explanation. "Thanks Mon," he said as he rushed out the door, "You're the best!"
She closed and locked the door behind him and heard Chandler mutter behind her, "The best at making up non-existent holidays... and keeper of random lasagnas that are needed for occasions such as this."
"I got him out of here, didn't I?" she asked smartly, walking over to Chandler and sliding onto the couch beside him. She rubbed his leg soothingly, trying to communicate that there was no harm done.
"I'm sooo sorry about that," Chandler whispered ashamed, burying his face into Monica's dark hair. "I was pretending to sleep and he came into my room, and-"
"Yeah… I forgot those by the way," Monica smiled, and Chandler drew back his face, his body relaxing at her attempt to lighten the mood. He planted a kiss on her lips, feeling her arm wrap around his back and leave a tingle in his spine.
She got him every time.
"I don't think that's the only thing that you forgot," Chandler whispered into her ear, and Monica smiled, knowing where this was going to lead.
"Oh really?" she teased, taking his hand and pushing her fingers softly through his, "Then explain to me what exactly what else was on the menu that I missed."
She snuggled up closer to him, gazing at his brilliant blue eyes wistfully. She wanted nothing more then to get lost in them day after day - exploring her and Chandler's relationship was something she looked forward to every second they were apart – both physically and emotionally. He was so much more then just the odd ball with the quirky humor and the self-amusing grin…
They held each other for the moment, both knowing that the potential that their fling had to go beyond that, which was a scary prospect, but one that they eagerly looked forward to in the future. She tilted her head forward and connected with his lips; the silent deal sealed away with a kiss.
Chandler nuzzled into her neck, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around Monica's waist, pulling her as close to him as humanly possible. "You are… amazing," he muttered, and he could feel Monica grin.
"If I am it's only because you make me that way," Monica replied, moving in for another kiss. Chandler lifted his finger to her lips, stopping her movement,
"And that's why," he said, all pretense of romance lost. Monica cast a look up to him skeptically, "I knew you would love to watch this with me." He reached over Monica's body and she curled up tightly while Chandler retrieved a DVD case from the table.
She took it from him and glanced at it doubtfully. "Santa Claus 2?" she questioned, stifling a giggle.
"What?" Chandler protested, taking the case away from Monica and getting up to put it in, "Would you rather view one of the numerous porno videos Joeys has stashed around here somewhere…" he trailed off, getting sidetracked. He bent down on his knees and opened the TV cabinet curiously.
"Are you actually looking for them!?" Monica asked incredulously, and Chandler shot up.
"What? No…" he muttered, his cheeks turning a practiced shade of red. "I was just … the … wires, y'know," he mumbled incoherently, turning on the movie.
Monica laughed at his discomfort, getting up from the couch. "I'll make some popcorn," she suggested, heading to the kitchen. She stopped half-way there, "Do two even have any?"
She'd never actually made popcorn that belonged to their apartment; it was always made at her place and then brought over, or brought over and then made. Come to think of it, she opened the fridge door; they didn't have much else other then old milk, cheese, eggs and beer.
"Probably not," Chandler answered offhand, struggling to work the movie, "Joey hasn't taken any from your place lately and-" he froze, Monica glaring at him. "We don't need popcorn, do we?" he laughed nervously, waving it off girlishly with his hand.
Monica looked closer at the milk, recognizing a dent that looked curiously alike to Rachel's elbow, "Chandler!" she said shocked, "We put this out because it was old!"
Chandler looked over and his eyes went wide, "Well, I haven't been drinking it!"
Monica continued to glare at him, and he shrugged helplessly, "We have beer that's ours," he supplied, and Monica grudgingly took out two beers. "And by we…" he continued, turning his back so that he wouldn't have to face Monica, "I mean me, and by ours I mean Ross'."
"Are you guys running low on money or something?" she asked quietly, knowing that Joey hadn't had a job for a while and Chandler wouldn't be one to ask for money.
She saw Chandler shake his head and instantly lost the sensitivity in her voice, checking the lock on the door. They probably wouldn't be getting through much of the movie anyways. "No," he laughed at her, "It's just easier to take other peoples stuff."
"Well, you shouldn't do that," Monica scolded, getting comfortable on the couch as Chandler cursed the television. "What's wrong with it?" she asked, yawning and covering her eyes with her arm.
"Damn thing won't work…" Chandler muttered, and Monica jolted out of her moment of relaxation when sharp, sudden bangs filled the room. "Stupid," Chandler started a tangent of choice swear words. Monica stared at him in shock as he threw up his hands in frustrated defeat; she'd never seen this side of him. "I give up," he announce, placing his hands in his pockets and glaring at the thing as if that would make it work.
"Chandler, we are not giving up," she said firmly, his words kindling an instantaneous response in her body. She got up and marched over to Chandler, who smartly moved out of her way.
"You can't give up on something just because it doesn't go your way," Monica lectured as she fiddled around with the playing device. Chandler rolled his eyes – he should have known better then to utter that phrase in Monica's presence. "I mean," she continued, and he couldn't help but mouth the words she was saying behind her back, "What would have happened if the Russians said – whatever. We can't get sputnik into space, so we'll just give up!" She turned around to emphasize her point, catching Chandler in his mocking gesture.
He smiled quickly at her and followed her around the entertainment system, "Well, America may have won that race, but since they did, I'm not too sure what would have happened if the Russians gave up. And second – Sputnik? Are you sure that was Russia?"
Monica emerged from behind the wood, giving Chandler a look that made him backpedal,
"But you did grow up with Ross, so. Yeah," he finished instantly, flashing her one of his grins which she ignored, brushing past him and back to the couch. He stared after her, "You're giving up?"
"The power cable was unplugged," she said with a confident smile, "But since you're obviously so smart, you would have found that out before smacking the inanimate television, right?"
"Ha ha," Chandler said dryly, pressing the power button. It turned on and he placed the movie in the disc holder.
"See?"
Chandler turned around, heading to the couch. "You think you're so smart," he said, taking her arms and lifting her up to a sitting position, "Don't you?" he asked taking a seat and leaning her against him, wrapping her arms around herself. He released them, instead placing his hands softly on her petite waist.
"As a matter of fact, I do," she giggled, leaning up and kissing him softly. She broke it off, grinning, her brilliant blue eyes dancing with amusement. "Smarter then you in any case," she teased, and Chandler smiled, keeping his mouth shut, disregarding all the sarcastic comments and jokes that subconsciously flooded his mind.
He only had one thought now, and it was the woman lying on top of him, somehow managing to make herself irresistible and charming at the same time.
"What?" Monica asked after a second, expecting a joke to come, Chandlers carved in stone face, curious. He just looked at her, taking her hand gently and brushing away non-existent hair on her face. He squeezed it, and Monica leaned up against him, her hair tickling his neck.
"Seriously," she muttered, her free hand cupping Chandler's neck, "What?" she asked again, looking deep into his eyes, far beyond just the exterior. She saw a twinkle there, a small spark of something she'd only seen in people she wished she'd one day be.
"Would you mind it…" Chandler started nervously, his eyes blinking repeatedly. He looked down at her hand in his, observing how they perfectly melted together to create a continuous line.
"Would you mind it if…" he was having trouble getting the words out, and Monica lifted his chin up tenderly with her hand so that he would be looking at her.
"Just say it Chandler," she urged, smiling reassurance. He shouldn't be afraid of saying anything around her.
He laughed, kissing her softly; it occurred to Monica how much their kiss had changed. It was an odd thing to think about, but before it had been exciting, eager, and an air of curiosity to where it would lead, mixed with a little bit of hesitation – were they actually doing what they were doing? Now it was softer, more relaxed, filled with more 'like' than 'want'. More of - this is what I think I could get used to doing more.
Chandler pulled away, "I just wanted to say… would it be okay… only if you wanted to of course…"
"Chandler," Monica interrupted. He was transforming into a ranting idiot; it was cute that she made him this way, but it was slowly becoming trite.
"I know that we're both… neurotic," he explained, for lack of a better word, "and that we're both paranoid about how our… thing is going. We don't want to go too fast, but we don't want to go too slowly either, but slow would probably be better then fast-"
"Chandler?" Monica interrupted again as Chandlers focus point began to stray.
"I want to know – what Joey said before. I think it has some truth to it… well, I know it does; to me at least, and has for a little while... So I guess what I'm trying to say is… is it alright if you're regarded, in my mind, as my… smoochie?" he quickly lowered his eyes, embarrassed to actually be using the word.
Monica smiled, nodding after a moment of thought. "I think that's the perfect stage in this 'thing' for us," she acknowledged and Chandler broke into a smile.
"Oh thank God," he muttered, unable to resist the temptation of kissing her again.
"I like you a lot," he confessed after a second, the movie continuing to play heedlessly in the background.
"I like you a lot too," Monica responded thoughtfully. She rested her head against his chest, hearing the beat of his heart and imagining it as her own.
Smoochie.
Chandler was Monica's smoochie.
And she was finally his.