Phase Three
Um…Mondler fans, don't hate me. This isn't my normal pairing. I don't know what's come over me lately, but…I'm kinda liking the whole Rachel/Chandler pairing. Mondler is like, aw, cute! But, Randler…it's like, bam, hot! So, if you're gonna hate me based on that, hit back now! :) Or, don't, and give it a chance, because I actually used to loathe the thought of them, but, after reading a few fics this past week, I am now totally loving the idea. Ok…this takes place in season 4, but you'll figure that out. Or did already from the title. I don't own them. Or much else, really.
_._._
His lips hit hers like a ton of bricks, and not at all in a bad way. It was fast, and hard, and unexpected. It was full of lust and passion, confusing yet comfortable. It wasn't a first kiss with someone type kiss. Not at all what it had felt like the first time she kissed Ross, which she half-expected, seeing as they were pretty good friends as well.
But, no. This was different. He tasted slightly like the cigarette they had just shared, but mostly like alcohol. Or was she just tasting herself?
But, god, he smelled like Chandler. Why had she never realized this was how Chandler smelled before? Whatever it was, it was fantastic.
They pulled back slightly, confusion evident on both of their faces. "Rach," he started slowly, softly, out of breath, deeper than he usually spoke.
She wordlessly held a finger up to his lips, looking into his eyes. His deep blue eyes. God, how did she never see his eyes before, either? Well, she remembered thinking, at some point in time, that he did have very pretty eyes, but…God, how did she never really see them before? Or perhaps it was the look in them that had her mesmerized. Or maybe it was still the aftershock of the kiss. Or the tequila shots chased with beer. They were still leaning up against the brick wall outside the bar, one of his arms leaning against the wall for support, the other hand laced through her own. She traced his jaw line before pulling his face back down to her own, raking her fingers through his hair as she kissed him again. And, god, it was just like the first time. She wasn't sure if it was the tequila or him, but, god, was it intoxicating. She leaned into him as his hand found the small of her back, and the feeling of his fingers on the bare patch of skin directly below her shirt made her tremble.
Was she really making out with Chandler? Chandler? Outside, around the corner from a bar? In the middle of the night? She shouldn't be doing this. But this seemed like a different Chandler, not her friend Chandler. Was this the Chandler Monica saw sometimes? Monica had drunkenly admitted once that if she were to choose between Joey and Chandler to sleep with, she would hands-down pick Chandler. And they were close. A lot closer than she and Chandler were. Had Monica ever done this with Chandler?
Not the Geller she should be worrying about…
Chandler pulled back, and it crossed Rachel's mind that he was thinking the same thing. "Apartment…bedroom?" he asked softly. Rachel smiled in return; if he was thinking the same thing, he sure as hell wasn't letting it show. Rachel nodded, stepping forward, slipping her hand in his as they silently made their way (slightly stumbling) back to their building.
This wasn't how this night was supposed to go.
That morning, Chandler was still in sweatpants. Still in phase one over Kathy. Joey smelled like death, or rather, whatever caused death, and Ross had decided to be spontaneous for once in his life and was off with that stupid British girl. Elizabeth, was it? Though the girls had stepped in and taken him to a strip club, becoming friends with the strippers wasn't really what he needed to achieve phase three.
Later that day, Monica and Phoebe were off doing….something, that wasn't important. Ross was still having fun with his stupid foreign girl, and Joey…still smelled like whatever was in that carton she had pulled out of the back of the guys' refrigerator after they switched apartments.
So, when Rachel pointed out that, being a girl, she wasn't good at the whole strip-club thing, but, being pissed at Ross and frustrated with Joshua, she could probably be pretty good at the whole going to a regular bar and getting completely trashed thing. Chandler agreed.
It had started out innocently. A couple of beers, some talking. But somehow, somehow the talking and friendly banter between them had turned into something else. She wasn't sure when she realized that it had gone from banter to full-fledged flirting, but it had. Completely mutual flirting. And who suggested the first round of tequila shots was still up in the air, but that definitely had some kind of effect on the flirting. The feeding the fire, kind of effect.
They heard the last call. Had they really stayed out that late? Looking around and seeing they were the last ones in there, it indeed was that late. So, they took one last shot for the road, arms interlaced, before leaving. She was pretty sure Chandler paid their tab. Did that make it a date?
They were arguing over something when they walked outside. Playfully arguing. More flirting. What had it been? God, what had it been? Not important, not important.
Smoking. It had been about smoking. Chandler had pulled out a cigarette. She pulled it out of his mouth. He grabbed another one and a lighter. Rachel frowned, holding hers out to be lit. She remembered him grinning, and then laughing when she coughed horribly after the first drag. Rachel was definitely not a smoker. He then grabbed the cigarette from her mouth, taking a drag, and telling her not to waste it if she wasn't going to do it right. They were standing close. Too close. Closer than Chandler and Rachel stand.
And that was when his lips hit hers like a ton of bricks, the forgotten cigarette falling to the ground.
"Uh, Rach?" Chandler broke into her thoughts. "Do you still wanna…" he motioned to his door, well, formerly her door, seeing as they had switched apartments. Rachel nodded, following him in the front door. They both audibly sighed with relief at the realization that Joey was gone.
Now it was awkward.
"Do you, um, need anything, or anything?" Chandler threw his keys on the counter before turning back to Rachel.
"Another cigarette?" she mused, taking a step towards him.
Chandler snorted. "No way am I wasting another cigarette on you!"
"Well, then we could get back to the other thing we were doing outside?"
"Mm, good idea," he grabbed her waist pulling her closer.
"Bedroom," she whispered in his ear, biting it slightly as they moved backwards towards his bedroom. Formerly her bedroom. "Your walls are still pink," Rachel laughed, and Chandler pushed her backwards, onto the bed.
"Yea, well, we're gonna trade back eventually, right?"
"Really?" Rachel's eyes lit up.
"Nope. I'm just screwing with you," he said with a grin, and, god, did that grin make her melt. What the hell was happening tonight? "Rach?"
"No, no thinking now," she pulled him down on top of her, wanting another one of those infuriatingly good kisses. "We'll do some thinking in the morning. A whole of thinking. To make up for tonight."
"Sounds good to me," he mumbled, giving in and kissing her again, this time slower, softer, sweeter. God, it had the same effect, though. She crumbled beneath him, struggling to find the coherence to maneuver her hand enough to get to his belt, then the button on his jeans, then the zipper, and he kicked them to the ground. She reached around her back, undoing her bra from underneath her shirt, slipping it off through the sleeve of her shirt. The look on Chandler's face after seeing that was exactly what she was going for. This was going to be fun…
Rachel woke up, head pounding, slightly confused. At least she was in her own room. Wait, no. Her walls, someone else's bed. Blue flannel sheets. Chandler's bed. Chandler had her room right now. Rachel held her breath, remembering the night before, rolling over slowly to face Chandler. He was still sleeping, and, god, did he look adorable. His hair all messed up, mouth slightly open. Wait, what? No, this feeling was supposed to be because of the alcohol, not Chandler.
Or, was it?
Rachel moved closer, resting a hand on his bare chest, kissing his cheek. He stirred, eyes opening, confused at first, then less confused, remembering the night before. Maybe neither of them was as drunk as they let themselves believe. She needed a kiss, needed to know, needed affirmation of whether the feelings she remembered feeling were from Chandler or the tequila. Although part of her was rooting for Chandler, a slightly more rational part of her was hoping it was the tequila.
He kissed her before she had the chance to make the first move. He still tasted like alcohol, but so did she. His hand was on the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, holding her close, as if she would disappear at any moment. Her hand still lingered on his bare chest, and she moved closer, wanting to wrap her arms completely around him, wanting to feel his skin against hers.
Yea, the feelings definitely weren't because of the tequila.
_._._
And that, children, is the story of how Jamie decided to officially 'ship Chandler and Rachel. I like them. I will be writing more of them.
This, however, I think will be a stand-alone. I like it as a stand-alone, though it probably could go farther. Yes? No? Love it? Hate it? Think I should just write Mondler and pretend this didn't ever happen? :) Review, please and thanks!
