Chandler sat on the couch in his new house, on the verge of tears. His hands were clasped together, fingers intertwined and fidgeting. The memory of the conversation with his wife from earlier kept replaying in his mind.

They had finally settled down into their new house, which was the best house. He wasn't regretting it at all. The problem had nothing to do with the house nor was the problem about his and Monica's marriage. All that was going great. No, the problem was about what his wife had said to him that morning when they had woken up.

The memory flooded his mind, and he could do nothing to stop it.

FLASHBACK

Chandler was awoken to a gentle humming and a caress over his shoulders. He was on his side, his back pressed into Monica's front. Her silky skin felt good against his. It was like wherever she touched him; it was as if a fire he never felt before that moment was being put out. She was the water that put out his fire: the medicine that healed his burns.

He sighed at the comfort that came over him with every stroke. It took awhile for him to notice that her grip was slowly getting rougher. Prickles now spread from where her fingers touched him. With speed, he rolled over so that she was now under him. He looked her in her brown eyes with horror etched into his.

"What have we agreed to when it comes to you giving me massages?" The realization that she was trying to give him one freaked him out. The last time she had given him one, it had hurt like hell.

Her eyes were wide and innocent. "What? That was a long time ago!"

Chandler only looked at her. It was a look that a stern mother would give her child when the child was starting to do something that he wasn't supposed to do.

She gave up. Monica remembered very clearly what happened and what was said. Putting emphasis on the sigh she exhaled, she opened her mouth to reply. "Fine. But there are things that you don't know."

He moved off of her, wanting to get as far away from her as possible. He went to fast, so he completely missed his spot and feel onto the floor with a bang. When nothing was said, Chandler freaked out. "Monica? Can you help me up?"

"Why?" Sounds of Monica moving to get out of the bed were heard.

"Because I love you?" He offered, pain shooting up his spine.

"Not good enough honey." Monica appeared over him, a frown set upon her face.

Chandler knew that he was about to lose. Though he knew that, he had to make one last attempt. "Help! I've fallen and can't get up!"

His wife rolled her eyes and started to walk away, he hip swinging. He bare backside kind of turned him on. A smug Monica was one of the many Monica's that he loved.

"I told you that button would have came in handy!" She called back before walking into their bathroom.

"Fine." He huffed, crossing his arms. He was tired of being on the ground. His dad would call him a turtle when Chandler was young. That was because whenever he was pushed and landed on his back-which his mother liked to do often because she thought it was "simply hilarious!"-he could never get up without assistance. Chandler sometimes imagined himself as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle whenever no one helped him up, and he was on his back for hours. It kept him preoccupied.

All movements ceased, and he could see Monica stop and pause before turning around with a smug look on her face. "Excuse me?"

"I said fine. You can give me a massage. Only if you help me up." Chandler whined.

"Yes!" Monica yelled before making her was to him. With a struggle, she helped him up. "I'll give you one after work." With a wink, she galloped away and into the bathroom where she closed the door.

He swore that he could hear her singing her triumph in the shower.

END FLASHBACK

Chandler couldn't take it anymore. He jumped off the couch and ran to get his jacket. "I won't come back until tomorrow. Then, she won't remember." Just as he made it to the front door, it opened and pushing him, making him fall… right onto his back.

Monica's surprised face peeped at him from their open door. Surprise graced her features. "Chandler, what are you doing." With a quick check she saw the get away bag that he usually had when he tried to, well, get away, and his jacket splayed around him. This didn't amuse her. She stormed off to the kitchen and made no signs to make her way back to him.

He knew he was screwed right then. "Where's that damn button when you need it?"

An hour later

"Take that, Shredder!" Chandler shouted, cutting a kick to the door in front of him.

"Take this, Chandler!" Monica shouted, rocketing into the room, her hands shiny with something. She tackled his form on the ground and pushed him over, climbing onto his back.

"I am Chandler, and I do deserve this massage!" He yelled as she started to rub him. Her bony hands scraped against his body, and grunts of pain made their way out of his throat.

"This'll teach you to try to get away next time!" She laughed, rubbing harder.

"Oh yeah-OW-this will surely teach me not to!" Chandler grunted out in what he meant for a robotic voice.

"Sarcastic bitch." Monica growled, giving him another pinch.

After awhile, everything started getting smoother. Her rough gestures became gentle, and felt good. Soon, Chandler was a moaning mess. "How, Monica, how?"

"I've been taking classes." She replied, leaning down to kiss his neck.

"Sneaky bitch." Chandler replied, letting her do as she pleased.

A sharp nudge was made, making him yelp. "Hey, at least I did. You wouldn't have known if you would've left."

All became gentle again. Silence enveloped the room for a few minutes before Chandler spoke again. "Monica?"

"Yes?" Monica kneaded down his back, smiling as her husband moaned again.

"Can I have a message in the bed?" His voice was tinted with strain.

"Why?" She asked confused.

"Um, little Johnny is being suffocated." He hinted, moving beneath her.

She laughed. "Okay, and only as long as you give me one." Together, they got up.

Chandler sighed, feeling light and relieved that a certain part of him wasn't hurting anymore.

"And, Chandler?" Monica asked, smiling.

"Yes, honey?"

"You're right. He is little Johnny." With a giggle, she raced him to the bedroom.