The things that made her Monica
She'd fallen asleep against his shoulder and now his arm had gone dead. Chandler tried to shift his weight slightly but froze when she stirred. He really didn't want to wake her, she'd just get all upset again. He wasn't quite sure how she'd nodded off to start with; hospital chairs were really uncomfortable! It must be emotionally draining, he reasoned, being in the process of becoming an Aunt, talking to her mother (a feat all of its own) and being surrounded by babies that weren't hers. He didn't really get it, all that cooing and sighing over something so gross. Babies – red, shiny, noisy, poopy – icky. Monica seemed to like them though.
He wasn't sure how it had developed that he had become a shoulder for her to cry on. Once upon a time he was only her dorky older brother's dorky friend. Now he was her friend. Her socially awkward, talks funny, still dorky, wise crack making friend. He was never too sure about what to say to weeping females and he had definitely said the wrong thing earlier in an attempt to cheer her up, but he could be a shoulder for her. He could also do an excellent impression of static. Rescuing her from crying on the phone to her mother was one of his prouder moments. As he had hung up the phone she had turned into him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close as tears soaked his top.
It felt right holding her, comforting her, like he had a good use for his arms, even if one of them no longer had any feeling at the present moment. Chandler flexed his fingers and looked down at her sleeping face, peaceful now, and he smiled. She had nothing to worry about. She was beautiful, kind, loving, fierce...she would find the right person, even if she was also a control freak with obsessive tendencies. The right person would find those things just another part of what made her Monica. Like he did. Like they all did, he mentally corrected himself. Slowly he reached out the hand that wasn't dead and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He had meant what he said though. If she hadn't found someone who thought she was special enough to spend their life with her then he would do it gladly. The fact that she was hot didn't hurt (not that he dwelt too often on those thoughts, partly because it wasn't helpful but mostly because he wasn't Joey). It would certainly make life interesting.
"What are you doing?"
Her eyes had opened and she was looking at him both sleepily and a little suspiciously. Chandler's hand froze on her hair.
"Soothing you...?" he asked uncertainly. Her eyes narrowed slightly, before relaxing as she sighed and sat up. Chandler gave a yelp as pins and needles shot up the arm that had fallen asleep.
"Oh, tough-en up," Monica muttered levelling a light punch that made his arm feel like it had exploded.
"See it's that stuff I'm not sure I could cope with," he muttered and rubbed to get the circulation back.
"What?" Monica turned on him, eyes blazing and he was just thinking it was a good thing that he was already at the hospital when Rachel interrupted.
"Carol's having the baby! Carol's having the baby!" She burst in between them, voice a burble. "Ross and Susan have vanished."
"Maybe one of them has killed the other and is burying the body," he quipped. "My money's on Susan." The glares he got could have pierced metal and his hands were quickly in the air in a gesture of surrender.
"Look, let's just find them," Monica sighed in exasperation.
"I better just..." Rachel was gesturing back towards the door she'd come through and smiling ingratiatingly, "...just go back to the room in case they come back," and she was gone before Monica could stop her.
"What is it with that girl and doctors?" Monica muttered, before turning back to the matter at hand. "You go that way. I'll go this way. Oh...and Chandler," her hand stilled his arm as he made to leave. He turned back to find himself gazing into a pair of earnest eyes.
"Thank you."
A smile spread across him face as he added this moment to the list of things that made her Monica.
"Hey, no problem."