A/N: So, this is my first fanfiction! I've got the whole thing mapped out and it's not going to be long, probably 2, maximum 3 parts. Please review and let me know whether this is something you'd be interested in me continuing or not. It's based on canon up until early-mid season 3ish - basically, Ross and Rachel are together and Monica has recently broken up with Richard. Chandler isn't with Janice anymore, either. This chapter is just Chandler and Monica, but the next one is going to feature the Gellers, Ross and Rachel, and most likely Joey and Phoebe too. So, without further ado: Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Friends or any of the characters.

"Chandler, would you keep up!" I yell, frustrated at his increasingly lethargic pace. We've been shopping since ten in the morning in search of the perfect present for Ross, and yet we've only managed to cover half of Macy's in that time, also due in part to my complete lack of idea of what to get my brother for his birthday. It's admittedly unlike me to shop without a gift in mind, but in the weeks since I've broken up with Richard, I've tried so damn hard to distract myself, consumed by organising Ross's birthday events down to the last details, that I've have completely forgotten about getting him a present. Besides, now that he's dating Rachel, it seems like he has everything he has ever wanted and could possibly ever want in life. He's with the woman of his dreams and in a serious relationship barely two years off the back of his divorce, and I'm still going through guys like I do lasagne ingredients. It's no wonder he's the preferred child.

"Monica, by the time we finally get out of this store, all of these lovely gifts will have had their own birthdays", Chandler begins, me rolling my eyes as I realise where he's going with this. "So now not only do we have to buy gifts for Ross, but we have to buy gifts for his gifts!"

I don't know why I expected him to grasp the urgency of the situation. Annoyingly, he's not even done.

"Is it me, or does 'gifts' not even sound like a word anymore?"

I scowl at him, not in the mood for his jokes, not when we're both tired and exasperated from hours of dead end shopping. It's a bad combination; my mood gets crankier and his material gets weaker. I theatrically turn my back on him, about to pursue my quest alone, when he gently grips my arm. I spin round to look at him, his face now serious, and I hope to God he's finally detecting the stress that's building up on me by the second.

He sighs. "Look, can we just grab a Starbucks or something for a few minutes?"

I avert my eyes from his, concerned about taking a break when we aren't even close to being done.

"Mon, I just suggested getting coffee at somewhere that isn't Central Perk. That's how much you've worn me out, woman!'" he says, earning him a small smile from me. This only encourages him, and he goes all doe-eyed on me, pouting as he whimpers, 'please?' in that innocent way that's so impossible to resist.

I cave. "Fine, but only for five minutes, or I'll just go on without you," I say sternly, but I can't stop myself from smiling at him and we both know I don't mean it.

"My feet are gonna thank you for it," he grins, and gently nudges his foot against my leg as if to demonstrate his point. I can't help but chuckle in response, despite my mood.

He places his hand on my back and I instantly find myself starting to relax as he guides me through the store.

Just when I'm feeling a little calmer, exchanging light banter with Chandler in the elevator, we come to a startling halt – and not on our floor.

"What was that?" I all but whisper, my voice laced with anxiety. Chandler places a hand on my shoulder but I shrug him off coldly, not failing to miss a look that looks an awful lot like sadness in his eyes as I do so. I don't know why I instinctively revert to the hostility thing, but I know he's upset by it, especially after seemingly getting through to me a few moments ago. He doesn't deserve it. I don't deserve a friend like him, to be honest.

Chandler prods repeatedly at the open button to no avail and my breathing starts to quicken. Glancing at my watch, I see that it's already nearly five; how has it suddenly gotten so late? With every passing minute, the chances of me making it on time to work at six go from slim to slimmer.

"See, this is why you stick to the schedule," I mutter, a little smug despite my panic at our situation.

"Mon, we're gonna be fine. Let's just… press the emergency button!", he exclaims as it hits him, all the while trying to act as if it's the simplest, most obvious choice in the world, and that he'd been waiting for me to do it all along.

"Please, like you didn't only just notice that was there", I counter.

The voiceover informs us that we're going to have to wait indefinitely before assistance comes and we can leave the elevator, and I exhale a little dramatically, mumbling curse words under my breath.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, the atmosphere feeling uncharacteristically tense considering our closeness. Before it becomes too unbearable, Chandler speaks up.

"Hey, what's going on with you?" he asks softly, a hint of sadness in his voice. A wave of guilt floods over me and I attempt to avoid his eyes, something that's quickly becoming my standard response every time he sees right through me.

"Nothing," I reply, my voice breaking slightly as I feel my eyes sting with tears, all the emotions I've been feeling over the past few weeks bubbling to the surface at once.

He doesn't buy it, of course.

"I just, I feel like I've done something to piss you off, and I just want to know what it is so I can fix it. You know I never want to be the one causing you pain," he says, and his voice is so quiet and sincere that I'm sure I feel my heart physically break right there and then. I approach him cautiously, sitting beside him, the both of us with our backs against the elevator wall. I take his hand in mine, feeling instantly warmed by his touch. I admit defeat, deciding to spill my guts to him, and he begins stroking my knuckles absentmindedly.

"Oh, honey, you know it's not about you," I say softly, holding his gaze.

"I just can't believe I allowed this to happen, y'know? I forget to buy my brother a gift for his birthday until the damn day before, I drag you around shopping all day, nagging and making you miserable" – he tries to interject at this point, but I indicate that I'm not finished, and he waits for me to continue.

"And Ross's dinner tomorrow means that I have an entire evening of intrusive questions and judgemental comments to look forward to and all the while Ross will be sitting there, all in love and oblivious to the rest of us and I just" – I choke a little on my sobs, Chandler's free hand caressing the back of my head – "that should be me, y'know?" Chandler nods, his eyes full of sympathy.

"That should be me, with Richard. Tomorrow was gonna be so important for us, and me" – I laugh, humourlessly. Chandler remains silent. I love him for just letting me talk and cry.

"It's so pathetic. I'm pathetic. It's not even about Richard – I mean, sure, I loved him, but it was more than that. For once at one of my family dinners, I was gonna have someone by my side. And that made me so freakin' relieved, so happy, you have no idea. And it's not just about having someone to offer a little comfort while my mom talks shit about me. It's also how I thought that for once, Ross wasn't going to have this one thing over me. That now, we might be equals. I thought they'd look upon Richard and I and be proud of me for having this older, sophisticated man who adored me and now I won't even know. I won't get to see my mother's beaming smile, or the look in my father's eyes as he realises his little Harmonica might just get married someday after all. It's just so typical, y'know? I finally get into a serious relationship and the guy doesn't even stick around long enough for my parents to properly witness it" – Chandler's reassuring strokes manage to soothe my increasingly rapid breaths, now verging on wheezing and spluttering – "and I know it's not all his fault we broke up, but…"

I find myself unable to go on as I fall apart in front of my best friend. In some ways, it's unexpectedly cathartic to just crumble to the point where picking up the pieces isn't a possibility in that moment, so there's no pressure to even try. Somehow, it's almost okay, because he just holds me and kisses my hair.

I tilt my head up to look at him, and my breath hitches when I see that his blue eyes are shining with unshed tears. I hold his stare, perhaps a little too long. My eyes flutter shut as I feel his fingers trace my jawline, his warm breath hot against my cheek, and I think I know what's coming. Nothing happens, and I think, then again, I'm pretty sure Chandler would never kiss me while I'm so vulnerable, he's too good a friend, and person, to do that, although up until half a minute ago, I was pretty sure Chandler would never kiss me, period. If it were anyone else, I'd say that my flustered thoughts were wishful thinking, but I don't, because it's Chandler and I don't like him that way. I guess I'll never find out what nearly could've happened as suddenly my phone goes off, and our moment is over. Chandler's eyes double in size at the harsh sound of the ringing and he jumps practically two feet in the air, knocking me over, causing us both to burst out laughing at how comically exaggerated all of this is. The tension in the elevator diffused, I answer the phone, cringing when I hear my boss at the Moondance Diner shrieking down the line. He reprimands me for what feels like hours, and yet it still comes as a surprise and a slap in the face when he fires me.

"I just got fired," I state numbly as I hang up, too drained to cry any more tears.

"Oh my God, Monica, I am so sorry," Chandler apologises, shame plastered all over his face, "this is all my fault".

"No, Chandler, it's not," I sigh, a little perplexed at why he's being so kind to me, and how he isn't yet sick to death of my own self-pity. "It was a degrading job anyway, honestly, it's for the best. In fact, I'd probably be glad right now, if it wasn't for…"

"Your parents," Chandler finishes for me. I nod slowly.

"It's okay, I don't have to tell them tomorrow. I lie enough about my job as it is, so what's one more?" We both smirk, and I have no doubt that he's also picturing my mother finding out that I have to wear fake boobs and a blonde wig as part of my work 'uniform'. Suddenly, he has a mischievous glint in his eyes, but I can also sense nervousness and hesitance about whatever he's just thought up.

"Hey, you know what we could do?" he asks, and it's safe to say my curiosity is piqued.

I shake my head, and he wiggles his eyebrows, as if trying to convey some sort of secret message.

"What if… you and I… I mean," he stutters, and I frown. I'll concede, there was a spark between us earlier, but I've put it down to the combination of the confined, intimate setting with our heightened emotions in the moment. I've always thought Chandler might be a little attracted to me, in the harmless, insignificant way that he is to virtually any female who expresses any type of interest in him (he went out with Janice, for God's sake), but I never expected him to even consider acting on it, risking what we have over a little crush, if that.

I bat my eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.

"What?" I ask, and I'm not sure what I want his answer to be.

He huffs a little at my coyness, "what if you and I pretend to be a couple?"

Oh. I didn't see that coming.

"Excuse me?" I question, which probably comes off as indignant, but deep down I'm just intrigued and a little confused. He looks slightly insulted, but successfully downplays it, and proceeds to elaborate in a hushed tone.

"Look, what if I go as your boyfriend tomorrow night?"

My eyes narrow suspiciously as I try to process what he's saying.

"And what would I have to do for you in return?" I shoot back, "I mean, by tomorrow night, are we talking all night, in private as well as public?" I'm only half-teasing, actually marginally concerned that he'd be a little too willing to take the whole 'couple' thing literally.

He blushes at my insinuation, and it's adorably unexpected.

"God, Monica, no! Only for the dinner! And you wouldn't have to do anything for me back," he insists, a small, genuine smile on his face. I break out into a grin. He does that cute half-smile thing, and I know that he knows his idea has gone down well.

"You'd really do that for me?" I say, my voice barely above a whisper. His forehead creases, as if he can't mentally comprehend what I just asked.

"Of course, Mon, anything to stop your parents giving you a hard time. Besides, it isn't so bad for me either," he quips, "you know, I can't think of a better way to spend an evening than with Monica Geller by my side. You're a catch," he says with a wink, and it kind of makes my cheeks burn. You can't blame me; the guy knows how to flatter a woman.

"Okay," I agree, biting my lip to supress a smile at his sweet words. God, when did I start smiling so incessantly? All of my worries about the present, the elevator, work, are forgotten. He smiles back, not looking anywhere close to as crazy as I feel like I do. I tiptoe up to hug him.

"Thanks, Chandler," I say, my quiet voice resonating in the silence, his arms holding me tight.

"The pleasure's all mine," he retorts, pulling back. "This is going to be fun."

And I believe him. Tomorrow night isn't looking so hopeless, after all.

A/N: So, what did you think? Leave me all your burning questions, like, will Monica and Chandler ever find a gift for Ross? Do they ever get out of the damn elevator? Please bare in mind that I've only been to New York once, and only spent about a half hour in Macy's, nor have I ever got stuck in an elevator, so excuse my limited knowledge on those subjects. And apologies for any inconsistencies with canon, grammar errors, typos, etc. Hope you liked regardless! :)