Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, and... actually, you know what? If words are really powerful enough to keep me from getting sued, then I'm going to take this opportunity to use them to say this: I am all-powerful, and, as Phoebe Buffay would say, "You're all invited to bite me!" Heheh... just kidding. :) Bright, Kauffman, and Crane: I salute you. You comedy geniuses, you...
This takes place after Kathy (awhile after, as you'll see soon enough) but before London. Basically, London didn't happen.
Saturday Morning Surprise
"Bill, bill, junk, bill..." Chandler flipped through the mail disinterestedly as he ascended the stairs after a morning jog that had, in all reality, been more like a morning heart-attack-in-the-making. He sighed as he climbed the stairs, a task which took much more effort than it should have, as his legs made it known that they were not happy. "So much for those nutcases who say workouts make you feel great," he muttered, wincing as he felt his hamstrings burn. He sighed and paused momentarily as he reached his floor, closing his eyes and arching his back. Groaning, he turned and froze when he saw something sitting in front of his door. Something that looked remarkably like a bassinet. "Oh, hell," he whispered, taking a step away from it as though it were a time bomb. For a fleeting moment, he weighed his options: one, he could turn and run, hoping that someone else would deal with it. Being that he had neither the energy nor the absence of conscience to do such a thing, he opted for his other choice and timidly approached the bundle, trying to get a peek inside. From the mounds of blankets, he gathered that it was, in fact, a baby's bassinet, and he immediately felt a sense of sympathy take over. "Looks like Joey's finally gone and done it," he thought to himself as he took another step toward it. The thought flew out of his mind when he saw that, in addition to the blanket that undoubtedly covered a child, there was a envelope at the foot of the basket with a name penned carefully across it: "Chandler." Never before had the mere sight of his own name instilled such a sense of fear within him, and he recoiled, terrified, as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. He stood, rooted to the spot, and stared at the name, feeling an unyielding sense of terror take over. His breaths came out in gasps as he sank down onto the step and stared, dumbfounded. Once he had, to a certain degree, regained his senses, he rose slowly and walked softly toward the bassinet, hoping against hope that the hush surrounding it meant that the kid was asleep. He gingerly reached down and seized the envelope, retreating as soon as he had it in his grasp. He sat once again upon the step, and quietly opened it. He was almost too afraid to read the letter, but his curiosity won over his fear, and he anxiously scanned the words.
"Dear Chandler,
I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but I'm afraid I have no choice. I have nowhere else to turn, and I know that this is the best thing that I could do. This is your son, Jackson. He was born on August 19, and his birth certificate and medical records and such are in a folder in his bag. I'm sorry that I'm leaving him with you so suddenly and without an explanation, but there's nothing else that I can do. I know you have a reliable job and that you can give our son a good home. Again, I'm sorry to do this to you, and to him. Please forgive me, but most of all, please take care of him and give him all the love that I can't. Thank you, Chandler.
Kathy"
He swallowed, his heart having leapt into his throat at the first line of the letter. His son? His and Kathy's son? He stared apprehensively at the bassinet again and, after a moment's deliberation, crept toward it once more. Taking a deep breath, he peered nervously into it, and didn't know why he was surprised to see that there was, in fact, a child asleep inside. Perhaps he'd been hoping that this was some wicked joke that one of his friends had decided to play on him, but that suspicion disappeared as he looked, dumbfounded, at the sleeping infant. Unsure of what to do, and not wanting to wake him until he'd at least had a chance to let this sink in somewhat, he gently picked up the bassinet and carried it into the apartment. A quick glance at Joey's still-open bedroom door told him that his friend hadn't yet returned from the previous night's rendezvous, and he gingerly placed the basket on the countertop, making sure that it was well away from the edges. The last thing he needed was to drop the kid, thereby proving just how unfit he was to be in such a situation. The absurdity of it all hit him suddenly, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. The fact that he, a commitment-phobic, cynical, solitary, and only moderately responsible man would ever be put in charge of another human life was insane. He was barely successful at getting Joey to stop choreographing his own Celebrity Deathmatches out of brie cheese figurines and smashing them all over the kitchen counter. How on earth would he be able to care for a child? He shook his head, almost ridiculing himself, as he pushed the thought out of his mind. Of course he wasn't going to be caring for a child. This was all just some mix-up that would be cleared up eventually, and he could go back to living his life, in which the most pressing issue was getting back to the apartment in time for Baywatch. He was jerked back to reality by the faint sound of whimpering, and his eyes locked on the bassinet as he awaited an ear-piercing scream. The whimpering continued, and after a few moments, it increased so that it was somewhere between whimpering and actual crying. He approached the baby nervously, staring down at him and clearing his throat. "Uh, hey there... Jackson. I, uh... I know that you don't know who in the hell I am, but don't you worry... we're going to figure this mess out in no time, okay?" His words apparently had no soothing effect on the baby, whose cries became gradually louder. "Okay, okay, don't cry. Shh... uh... look! It's Jenny McCarthy made out of cheese!" The baby's cries continued, and he threw a desperate glance around the apartment, looking for something, anything, that would calm the kid down. He saw only the duck sitting on the couch, and for a moment he could have sworn that his little duck-face held a humored smirk. He shook his head again. "If you think a duck knows how pathetic you are, you're REALLY losing it," he told himself. Figuring that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to introduce fowl to infant, his face suddenly lit up as he thought of his one hope that remained. "Monica!" He was certain that his baby-crazed friend would know what to do in such a situation, or at least, she would know better than he. Too afraid to pick the kid up while he was awake, he simply ran across the hall and barged into Monica and Rachel's apartment, leaving both doors open so that he could at least still hear the kid. "Monica?" He ran to her closed bedroom door and pounded on it frantically. "Mon?" She opened it, having just gotten out of the shower, in nothing more than a bathrobe. "Mon, you gotta help me."
"Chandler, what the hell... are you okay?" She looked at him, the concern written plainly across her face. Although Chandler was, by nature, a relatively high-strung individual, it took quite a bit to push him to the point of a crazed frenzy. "What's wrong?" Realizing she probably wouldn't believe it if he told her, and not having the energy to find out, he simply jerked his head in the direction of his apartment.
"Let me show you something," he said simply, knowing that it would be the easiest way to broach the subject. Intrigued by his odd behavior, she didn't argue, despite the fact that she was in a bathrobe, and wordlessly followed behind him.
"You know," she said absently as she heard the wails, "it's Saturday morning. You might want to turn your TV down a bit." She didn't see the ironic half-smile that crossed his face as he led her across the hall. When she caught sight of the bassinet that was still perched on the counter, her eyes narrowed in confusion and apprehension. "What the hell?" Not bothering to finish the question, she turned to Chandler, requesting an explanation with her eyes. Still not having what he figured would be the adequate words, he grabbed Kathy's letter and extended it toward her, leaning back against the countertop as her eyes ran over the lines. She looked up at him after a few moments, her eyes a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and concern. "What are you going to do?" He stared at her, painfully aware of the fact that he hadn't the slightest idea. He shrugged, still not entirely conscious of the gravity of the situation.
"I don't know," he said pointlessly. "But I figure getting the kid to stop crying would be step one."
"Did you try holding him?" The look he gave her, which implied that she might as well have sprouted wings and flown about the room, said it all. She looked at him skeptically and approached the baby, cooing as her maternal instincts took over. "Yes, there we go..." she murmured as she lifted him and cradled him in her arms and his cries once again quieted to a few sporadic whimpers. She turned to Chandler, a smile on her face. "See? That's all he wanted." She turned once again to the baby, a silly grin took over her face, and she developed a voice to match. "Wasn't it? You just wanted to be held, didn't you? Yes, you did." As she bounced the baby up and down on her hip, she faced Chandler once more. "So... what are you going to do for now?" she asked, knowing too well that asking long-term questions would only freak him out. He shrugged again, watching the bouncing bundle warily.
"Don't babies puke a lot?" he asked suspiciously. "I know if someone bounced me like that I'd start to feel a little queasy." Monica chuckled slightly as she looked at Chandler thoughtfully. After a moment, she stepped closer to him.
"Okay... you are now going to hold him... after all, he is your son... apparently," she added, removing the baby from her hip and standing directly in front of Chandler. He immediately flinched, as if she'd approached him with a blowtorch, shaking his head violently.
"I don't know how to hold him," he objected. "I-- I'll drop him."
"You won't drop him," Monica reassured him. "Come on... it's not hard." Chandler stood awkwardly as Monica positioned the baby in his arms. "See?" she said, standing back with a satisfied look on her face. "There. You're doing fine." She felt an odd sense rush over her as she saw him standing there, looking terrified to his very core, and she realized she'd never before seen Chandler hold a baby, except for Ben, and Ben had been much older. She smiled warmly. "I'm just going to go get dressed." His faced twisted into a look of panic as he imagined himself left alone with Jackson once again. "Calm down," she said, reading his thoughts. "I'll be two minutes, okay?" He nodded wistfully and watched as she walked out. Holding the baby gingerly, he walked toward the barcalounger and sank back into it slowly, trying not to disturb the baby's peaceful state. Still holding him firmly, he propped the baby up on his knee and stared at him, realizing that it was the first time he'd taken a good look at who was allegedly his son. He bounced his knee slightly, relieved when the baby seemed to enjoy it, and prayed that he wouldn't become the target of a repulsive wad of baby-vomit. After a few moments, Jackson smiled slightly, and Chandler found himself grinning. Maybe he could handle this for awhile after all. Not a long while. But awhile. Like... days, maybe. Despite his nonexistent knowledge in the field of child-rearing, he had an inkling of satisfaction at the idea that he was someone's father. The notion quickly disappeared when he remembered the predicament he was in, and he hastily stopped bouncing the baby. He stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded, and breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Monica re-enter, turning to face her as she sat in the barcalounger next to him. Neither was entirely sure of what to say, so bizarre was the situation. Finally, Chandler broke the silence as he resumed the bouncing of his knee.
"Well, what do I do?" he asked, not sure exactly what it was that he wanted to hear. Monica shook her head and was silent for a moment.
"I guess..." she paused and looked at him carefully, not wanting to alarm him, before she continued. "I guess... you can do one of three things. You can either (a) keep him." Chandler visibly tensed, a reaction that Monica chose to ignore. "You can (b) turn him over to the state and hope that he gets adopted by a decent family. Or (c) you can try and track down Kathy." Chandler was silent as he dealt with the reality of her suggestions. He knew she was right, and yet each idea brought with it a string of concerns and downsides. After a thoughtful silence, he spoke gently, looking once again at Jackson, whose chubby hands had managed to find the drawstring on Chandler's hooded sweatshirt. As he tugged on them gently, his father watched with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth.
"I don't think I could give him over to strangers," he said sadly. "I mean... so many bad things could happen to him, and I don't think I could deal with that possibility." Monica nodded understandingly and waited for him to continue. "I-- I guess we could try to find Kathy," he said, not sounding entirely convinced that he wanted to do so. He sighed and gently untangled Jackson's hand from the cord in which it had gotten snarled, feeling a strange sensation in his stomach when the baby grasped onto his hand instead. He stared at him, wondering what was happening to him. Half an hour ago, he had been petrified of even touching the baby, and now he felt oddly pleased by the paternal feelings that had risen within him. Aware that she was witnessing a character change in the making, Monica reached over and patted his hand comfortingly.
"Well, whatever you decide, you don't need to do it yet." He looked over at her, grateful that she understood him so well, and nodded. "Why don't we feed him?" she then suggested. "There's probably a bottle or some formula in that bag of his," she added. Chandler nodded again and she rose from the chair, walking over to the bag and sifting through its contents. "Ah-ha!" she cried triumphantly. "We have a winner! We just have to heat it up," she added, turning to look at the stove.
Chandler stood up, propping Jackson up on his hip. "Okay, well, why don't you show me how to do it?" Monica looked at him, surprised. She was amazed at how well he was dealing with this. The man who bordered on hysterical at minor incidents was suddenly acting like he could actually pull off being someone's father, if only temporarily. She nodded and held the bottle out toward him.
"Heat some water," she directed. "Then stick the bottle in it and wait for it to heat up." Chandler nodded.
"Sounds simple enough." He did as he was told after Monica had taken the baby from his arms and watched the bottle intently. He periodically glanced at Monica and Jackson, wondering what was going to become of his son. As the word "son" spun around in his mind, he found himself lost in images of childhood. The stereotypical images that he was sure flashed through the mind of every parent and parent-to-be: teaching his son to walk, to throw a baseball, to shave. He felt a pang of guilt when he thought of surrendering his son to someone else, and recalled with a twinge of resentment how he had grown to begrudge his own father for leaving HIM to grow up without one. He sighed as he watched the bottle gradually steam up, and heeding Monica's directions, he removed it from the pot carefully and dried it off. He went to extend it toward Jackson, but was admonished by Monica. "Wait! You have to check it on your wrist first," she informed him.
"Why?" he asked absently as he squirted a few drops of the milk onto his wrist, and flinched as the hot liquid stung the tender skin.
"That's why," she replied with a sympathetic smile. He grimaced and placed the bottle down on the counter.
"Perhaps we'll just wait for a moment," he suggested. She grinned as she continued to bounce Jackson and listen to his baby giggles.
Later that evening, after having explained the entire situation to the rest of the group, Chandler found that he'd grown even more fond of Jackson and his little baby ways. He didn't understand why he was feeling such affection toward a relative stranger, and he wondered where it was coming from. Yet, at the same time, it was almost as if he understood it, and didn't want to let it go. It was that part of him that told him not to bother looking for a home for Jackson or searching for Kathy... it was that part that told him that his son belonged with him. As he sat on the couch in Monica's apartment after dinner, once again bouncing his son up and down on his knee, he felt the oddly familiar sensation that he had experienced more than once during the day, and at the same time, he felt the anxiety return at knowing he was faced with a complex decision.
"How you holding up there?" Monica asked as she came and sat down next to him while the other four cleared away the dishes from the dinner she'd made for everyone.
"Good," he replied thoughtfully. "I was just thinking."
"I can imagine," she replied with a smile. He turned to face her.
"Mon, thanks for helping me out this morning. I was so dazed, and I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped me." She smiled warmly.
"Chandler, you don't have to thank me," she replied. "Plus, I got to play with this little guy," she added, taking hold of Jackson's tiny hand and grinning. Chandler smiled as he maneuvered the baby so that he was lying down in his father's arms and turned to Monica.
"Would you mind holding him for a second while I fix his bottle?" he asked. "I mean, I guess it's probably about bedtime, right? What time do babies usually sleep?" Monica chuckled as she noticed his anxiety return.
"Good call," she commended him. "He's looking kind of tired." Chandler smiled, relieved, and rose from the couch. As Monica sat cradling Jackson in her arms as he gripped onto her necklace, she found herself noticing that she could actually see Chandler in his face. He had piercing blue eyes, sharper than the general blue present in most babies' eyes, and she noted how they looked like Chandler's. The small amount of hair was a sandy brown, as she knew Chandler's had been when he was younger, and when the baby smiled, she could practically see the resemblance between father and son. She was jolted back into the moment when she noticed Chandler hovering over her with his son's dinner.
"I checked it this time," he declared proudly, smiling. She laughed and moved as if to hand him over, but Chandler looked at her carefully. "You want to feed him?" he asked, recognizing the motherly look that she tended to get whenever she saw anything in diapers. She looked up at him and grinned.
"You wouldn't mind?" He smiled and shook his head gently as he handed her the bottle and lowered himself to sit next to her again.
"Actually, I was thinking," he said in a low voice. "And... I think I'm going to have plenty of opportunities to feed him in the future." Monica looked up at him, surprised that he had reached a decision so quickly, yet not wholly surprised what his decision was. For all the aggravation they gave him for being commitment-phobic, she knew how strongly he felt about family, and she could understand it, given his relationship with his parents. After a moment of his looking at her, as if awaiting her approval, she nodded sincerely and he released the breath that had somehow gotten caught in his chest. He rested his arm on the back of the sofa behind Monica and watched as she fed his son, feeling the fatherly feelings surface once again as he observed the way the baby's tiny hands tried to grasp the bottle. He was only dimly aware of the fact that the other four members of their sextet were staring at them, after a comment from Phoebe that was too low for either Chandler or Monica to hear.
"Looks like we might have a couple more lobsters in our midst," she said in the voice that often accompanied her "psychic" observations. She let that comment hang in the air as they watched Monica and Chandler gazing down at the baby.
As she entered Chandler's apartment the next day, she laughed out loud at the sight that met her eyes. Chandler was sitting with Jackson in his lap, and both of them had their eyes glued to the TV set, which was, as usual, showing Baywatch. Upon hearing her laugh, Chandler arched his head back, in at attempt not to break Jackson's interest, now that he was sitting still. He grinned as Monica shook her head. "Like father like son, I guess," she observed, smiling. Chandler's grin broadened and he indicated toward the seat next to him. Sinking into it, Monica was silent for a moment before she spoke. "How was he last night?"
"Good," Chandler answered after a moment. "Although he was awake at five-thirty this morning... but at least he wasn't crying in the middle of the night."
"He's really good," Monica said, slightly surprised that a child of Chandler's wasn't as jittery as his father. "Surprising, given what's in his genes," she added with a smirk.
"Oh, ha ha," Chandler replied, although smiling. "Yeah, he is good," he agreed, looking at the baby affectionately. Monica had to keep from shaking her head at how Chandler seemed to have changed overnight. She'd heard that becoming a parent could change even the most irresponsible person, but it was a change that she wasn't sure she'd ever see Chandler undergo. She smiled as she broke the silence once more.
"I was thinking, if that bag is all that Kathy left with him, maybe we should go and buy a few things today," she suggested. "Just small things, like a few changes of clothes, diapers, formula... stuff like that." Chandler looked at her uneasily. So far this parenting thing had been relatively easy, but he wasn't sure he was ready for baby shopping. She smiled, easing his anxiety. "I'll come with you," she offered with a smile. "I wouldn't let you go alone... God knows what you'd come back with." Chandler resisted the urge to make a defensive joke, knowing that she was entirely correct in her assumptions.
"Okay," he agreed after a moment. "Sounds good." Monica nodded, almost excited at the prospect, and ran out of the apartment to get her jacket and purse. Chandler grabbed his coat and stood outside her apartment door, ready to go. She emerged a moment later and gave him a funny look.
"You're not ready," she informed him. He looked at her, confused.
"Huh?"
"Jackson," she answered. "He can't go out like that."
"Well, I agree with you, Mon, baby hippos aren't exactly the latest fashion, but he really doesn't seem to mind all that much." She shook her head sighing.
"I mean," she explained, "you don't have any of his stuff."
"Stuff?" Chandler repeated, beginning to feel inadequate once again.
"Diapers, clothes, baby wipes, bottle, pacifier, blanket, hat," she rattled off, watching as Chandler's face went from curious to horrified. She chuckled slightly. "Just grab his bag," she suggested. He did so, and they left the apartment.
"Uh, Mon?" Chandler asked timidly as they roamed the aisles of the nearest baby superstore. He was pushing the cart, with Jackson in the baby seat, and staring at the mountain of stuff they had managed to acquire in only thirty minutes.
"Hmm?" she replied absently, comparing two different types of baby wipes.
"Well, I appreciate your help, don't get me wrong, but uh... he's living in my apartment, not going on a world-round trip." Monica turned to face him, a slightly sympathetic look on her face.
"Babies need lots of stuff, Chandler," she informed him. He simply nodded, realizing that it would be foolish for him to argue with Monica, the baby guru, and continued to push the basket. Awhile later, as the baby began to whimper, Chandler gently lifted him out of the seat.
"It's okay, Jack," he whispered, bouncing him lightly on his hip as Monica had done. He stopped whimpering and Chandler smiled, satisfied. After gazing at them momentarily, Monica returned to scanning the aisles for anything they might need and grabbed some empty bottles, tossing them onto the heap of products they'd obtained.
"You're going to have to sterilize the nipples," she told him absently as she picked up a pack of pacifiers.
"Beg your pardon?" he replied, perturbed. She snapped back to reality, almost laughing at the slightly disturbed expression on his face. "The bottle nipples," she said with a smile. "Before you feed him," she explained.
"Oh," he said, nodding. He wondered how she knew all this, despite the fact that she didn't have a kid. He eventually decided that it must be that pamphlet that he was sure all women got when they were teenagers that explained the stuff men never seemed to know. Like the fact that you can get a broken light bulb out of the light fixture with half a potato. Or that hairspray can remove ink from your skin. And, apparently, every possible accessory that a baby could ever need. He watched, relieved, as Monica surveyed their basket.
"I think that's most of it," she said thoughtfully. "For now, anyway." Chandler resisted the urge to ask how he could need anything more when they'd bought practically the entire store, but he bit his tongue. He knew Monica understood far better than he what she was doing, and he was grateful for her help.
As they stood at the checkout counter ringing up their purchases, Monica gazed at Chandler and Jackson with an expression with which he was all-too familiar. Wordlessly, he handed the baby to her and took out his credit card. He extended his finger toward his son, and the baby grabbed hold of it in his tiny hand and grinned a toothless grin, proceeding to stick the finger into his mouth. Chandler chuckled as he did so, and the cashier watched with a kind smile. "Such a beautiful family," she said warmly, as both Chandler and Monica's heads snapped up to look first at her, and then each other.
They were both equally surprised when Chandler said only, "Thank you," and proceeded to dump the bags back into his cart. The woman gave a little wave toward Jackson as the three left the store, and Monica agreeably picked up his hand and waved back at her. They were silent as they sat in the cab on the way home, a silence that was eventually broken by Chandler nervously clearing his throat. "Mon, I'm sorry about back there, I just didn't want to have to explain--" He was cut off by Monica holding up her hand and smiling.
"It's cool, Chandler," she said affably. "I totally understand." He nodded thankfully and sat back against the seat, looking over at Monica and his son, wondering what had possessed him to go along with the idea of the three of them being a family. As he observed how Monica made silly faces and Jack laughed and clapped his pudgy hands together happily, he realized what a good mother she was going to make one of these days. He'd always thought she'd be the first to have a child, with the exception of Ross, and he felt a strange twinge of jealousy when he imagined Monica getting married and having a child of her own. He dismissed the feeling with a slight shake of his head, admonishing himself silently and deciding that he was just feeling strange because of the whirlwind of events of the past couple of days, and he joined in with the laughter of Monica and his son.
"Monica, you do realize what you're doing, don't you?" It was a week later, and Mon was changing the baby as Rachel stood a safe distance away. Monica ignored her a cooed down at Jackson as she snapped the buttons on his all-in-one together. As she lifted him, she placed him on her hip and finally turned to face Rachel, a wary expression on her face. "You're trying to be his mother!" she exclaimed forcefully, watching as Monica rolled her eyes and moved toward the kitchen to check the bottle she was preparing.
"Rachel, don't be ridiculous," she dismissed her. "I am NOT trying to be his mother. I'm just trying to help Chandler out," she insisted. "He's my friend, and he needs some support right now. Plus," she added, turning toward her friend boldly. "I'm pretty sure YOU wouldn't have helped him out, am I right?" Rachel faltered as she stared at the baby.
"Well, I would have if I knew anything about babies," she eventually argued, and Monica just smirked. "Where is Chandler right now?" she asked Monica, trying again to make her point.
"Knicks game," she replied without missing a beat.
"Yeah, exactly," Rachel answered, thinking she'd made her point.
"Yeah, so? So I'm baby-sitting while he goes out and relaxes with the guys," she retorted. "It's not like he's constantly dumping Jack with me. He just needed a break."
"Oh, please, Monica... it's painfully obvious that you've got this idea into your head of you and Chandler and Jack as a perfect family. Well, that can't work, I'm afraid, given that who WOULD be his father and his mother are friends and nothing more." She paused, remembering the remark Phoebe had made a week earlier. "Unless..." she trailed off momentarily, and then her voice broke the silence with a satisfied pronouncement. "You're falling for Chandler!"
Monica felt like a deer caught in the headlights, and she spun around to check the bottle so that Rachel couldn't feel the blush that had crept into her face. "You're crazy," she said weakly, unable to think of an adequate retort.
"I get it now," Rachel said insistently. "Now that he's matured... now that he's got this father-like air around him... you're falling for him!" she repeated emphatically, realizing with satisfaction that she'd trapped her friend. "His paternal senses have triggered something in that baby-obsessed mind of yours, and you're slowly but surely becoming more and more crazy about him."
"Please, Rachel," Monica said once she had regained her senses. "Chandler and I are friends. Nothing more." She tried to keep her voice even, but she knew there had been a strain present in her speech when she'd said the last part. She just hoped that Rachel hadn't picked up on it. She couldn't deny that she was seeing Chandler in a whole new light, but she had managed to convince herself that she was just impressed with the way in which he'd become so responsible over the past week. Now, with Rachel trying to dissect her emotions, she realized that she was going to have to examine them for herself if she was ever going to figure out what was going on. "Now," she said, trying to change the subject. "Are you going to help me feed him or not?"
"KNICKS RULE!" Joey cried as the three guys stood up to leave the arena once the game had ended. He almost quivered with excitement as he faced Ross and Chandler. "Yeah, baby! We POUNDED those Nets! They were MUTILATED!" Chandler and Ross chuckled slightly, as they were always amused by the animation that surfaced in Joey whenever the Knicks were brought into the picture. They slowly followed the surging crowd out into the open as the dome emptied. "Hey, you guys wanna go get a beer and celebrate?" Ross asked, noting that it was still somewhat early for a Saturday night.
"I can't, man," Chandler replied. "Monica's watching Jack and I don't want to leave her too long."
"Aw, c'mon Chandler," Joey urged. "You know what Monica's like with babies. She has absolutely no sense of time." Chandler shook his head apologetically.
"Sorry, guys," he replied, unwavering. "Can't." Ross and Joey shared a look.
"You know, man, the more time you guys spend with that kid, the more it's like watching a rerun of 'Leave it to Beaver' or something," Joey said.
"There wasn't a baby in 'Leave it to Beaver,'" Chandler replied absently as he tried to hail a cab. None stopped, and he stood next to Ross and Joey on the sidewalk, turning to face them. "And what's your point, anyway?"
"You and Monica," Joey continued after a moment. "It's almost like you guys are married or something, and you've got to get home to the missus." Chandler snorted and turned away, racking his brain for something to say. He'd been questioning himself ever since the idea of Monica starting a family had made him jealous, and the fact that Joey and Ross might have picked up on it alarmed him.
"Look," he replied insistently. "She's been helping me out, and I don't want to take advantage of that. That's all."
"Oh, please," Joey scoffed. "You love the idea of her at home with the baby and you walking in all 'Honey, I'm home.'" He paused and a look of realization crossed his face. "You like her."
"Well of course I like her," Chandler replied, exasperated. "She's one of my best friends." Ross shook his head, agreeing with Joey.
"No, man, you LIKE her, like her. Like you LIKE-liked Kathy." Chandler was silent for a moment as he tried to think of a response, but the silence lingered when none came to mind.
"Taxi!" he yelled instead, waving his arm at a passing cab, relieved when it slowed and pulled up to the curb. He turned to glance at Ross and Joey as he jumped into the cab and they shared a knowing look as they got in behind him.
"Da-da," Chandler encouraged as he knelt in front of his son. "C'mon, Jack, say 'Da-da.'" The baby grinned and bounced, reaching out and grasping Chandler's nose. He groaned. "I guess you inherited my incredibly short attention span," he grumbled as the baby laughed again. He couldn't hide the smile that crossed his face, and he laughed as Jack bounced again. He thought back to just over a week ago, and wondered what he'd done with his time before Jackson had shown up. Nothing of value, he decided, as he stared at the baby. He was in awe of the fact that he had a son, and he was beginning to realize that being a parent was something that he was actually good at. His determination at making sure his son had a better childhood than he'd had caused his fatherly instincts to be almost natural, and he was surprised at the ease with which he had managed to discover them. Monica stood by the door unnoticed as she watched Chandler urging his son to speak. "Da-da," he demonstrated again.
"You know, too much pressure at a young age can lead to scarring later in life," she joked, alerting him of her presence. He looked up and smiled.
"Hey," he greeted her, turning once again to face Jack. "I just wanted to see if he'd say it," he said, as if he thought he owed her an explanation.
"Well," she said knowingly, "he's at about the right age." Chandler's eyes widened.
"Really?" He turned back to the baby once more. "You hear that, Jack? It's about time, so let me hear it. Da-da."
"Goo," he replied defiantly, and Monica laughed as Chandler sighed.
"Okay, you have the rest of the day off," he said. "But tomorrow I wanna hear some words." He lifted Jack and placed him in the playpen that he and Joey had assembled, and then turned to face Monica. "What's up, beautiful?"
"Eh... not a lot. I was bored, so I figured I'd come over here and see what you were up to." Chandler shrugged.
"Taking my boredom out on my son, apparently," he remarked, causing Mon to laugh again.
"Where is everybody, anyway?"
"Um... well, Rachel's working, Phoebe and Joey are out on dates, and Ross is out with Carol and Susan for Ben's birthday." Chandler nodded as he glanced at his watch.
"And you have no plans at 8:00 on a Friday night?" he asked, looking at her questioningly. She shrugged and he continued. "Well, I was just going to put Jack to bed... if you want, we could order some Chinese and watch a movie or something." Monica grinned.
"You read my mind," she said warmly. He smiled back.
"Okay, let me just get Jack ready to sleep... you want to call and order the food?"
"Sure... you just want your usual?" He nodded with a grin and picked Jackson up out of his playpen as she grabbed the phone. He gently placed the baby down on the changing table in his room as he grabbed a fresh diaper and a pajama-type ensemble from one of the shelves. Monica entered a moment later. "It'll be here in about ten or fifteen minutes," she informed him. He nodded as he undressed Jackson and changed his diaper quickly, muttering something about the joys of fatherhood. "At least he's a boy," Monica pointed out. "I can see you being a little more uneasy if you had a daughter to deal with." After a moment, a mischievous grin crept over Chandler's face.
"He's not just a boy," he said proudly, and with a raising of his eyebrow. "He's a Bing man!" Monica laughed as Chandler smiled again and snapped the light blue all-in-one up. "Okay, Jack," he said, admiring his work. "All done." Jack clapped his hands and smiled. "Now, don't you think I deserve a 'da-da' for that? Come on, Jack. Da-da. Say da-da."
"Da," Jack mimicked obediently, and the way Chandler's face lit up was priceless.
"Did you hear that?!" he exclaimed, looking at Monica and then turning back to his son once more. "Say it again, Jack," he pleaded. "Da-da."
"Da," he repeated again. Chandler grinned, feeling something stirring inside him. He turned to look at Monica, who looked like she was on the verge of tears, and then back to his son.
"How about Monica?" he suggested. "Say 'Mon,'" he directed. "Come on, Jack... 'Mon.'"
"Ma," Jack suggested, and both Monica and Chandler froze, both fully aware of how close "Mon" and "Mom" sounded, although neither had given a thought to it before. Chandler stood abruptly and Monica stood frozen next to him, neither having a clue as to what should be said. Bored with the silence, Jack began to fidget and Chandler cleared his throat.
"Well, I, uh... I guess it's time for bed," he suggested awkwardly, silently cursing himself for not anticipating the outcome of getting his son to try saying "Mon." Monica nodded quickly.
"Yeah, I'll just, um... go wait for the delivery guy. She gave Jackson a quick kiss on the forehead, as she did practically every night before he went to bed, and exited the room hastily. Chandler sighed and sank back onto his bed with Jackson still in his arms.
"Thanks a lot for that one," he said dryly, rubbing his son's back. "I see you're siding with Uncle Ross and Uncle Joey." He paused for a moment, deep in thought, and continued to rub Jack's back absently, his mind hazy. After a moment, he was jerked back to reality by Jackson's squirming, and he slowly stood up from the bed, placing his son in the crib next to it. He placed a light kiss on the baby's forehead and gently covered him with a blanket. "'Night," he murmured as he turned to walk back into the living area.
They stared at each other in an awkward silence, but as Chandler opened his mouth to break it, a knock on the door beat him to it. Monica spun, welcoming the interruption, and opened the door to reveal the Chinese delivery guy with whom they'd become quite familiar. She accepted the food as Chandler jumped in and paid him, and he left. "Thanks," Monica said uneasily, referring to his buying her meal. He grinned.
"No problem." The silence returned as they took the food out of the bags and sat on the barcaloungers. They ate their meal quietly, both being clueless as to what to say. Finally, having finished the food, Chandler spoke. "Sorry 'bout that," he apologized. She turned to face him, frowning slightly.
"Why?"
"I didn't mean to make you feel awkward," he explained. "It's just... you spend almost as much time with him as I do, and I figured it would be neat if he could say your name as well. That's all."
"Oh, no, Chandler, I wasn't upset by it. I just... I don't want you to feel as though I'm invading your territory or anything. After all, you are his father, and I'm..." she paused, trying to find the right words. "I'm just your friend," she finished after a moment, and Chandler wondered if the wistful tone of her words was in his imagination.
"You're more than that," he whispered uneasily. "You're... you're just... more than that. To both of us," he added. Suddenly feeling as though his liquid blue eyes were burning a hole right through her, Monica looked away as she felt the blush creep up her neck and into her cheeks. Chandler mentally scolded himself, suspecting that he'd made her even more uncomfortable. "Look Mon," he tried again. "Most of all, I just want to say... thank you for being there for me... and for Jack. I don't know how I would have managed without you these past weeks. I probably would have ended up being a horrible father and losing him," he said frankly. Monica turned to look at him sharply.
"Chandler, you couldn't be a bad father if you tried," she argued emphatically. He looked at her skeptically, and she continued. "Look, the stuff I helped you with... that was textbook stuff. Feeding tips, different symptoms, general knowledge... all that you could have gotten by reading a book. Being a good father... you can't get that from a book, and you can't learn it. You either have it, or you don't. And you do. It stems from having a good heart, and no one in this world, Chandler Bing, can rival you in that department. You are an excellent father, and although I was partially surprised by that fact, I also understand it. I've seen you change before my eyes recently... we all have... and you are a wonderful father." Chandler was left speechless, taken aback by her sincere words. She blushed again and looked away, standing and dumping their empty food cartons into the garbage. He stood up, resolving to do something to at least put a definition to their relationship, and as she felt his presence right behind her, her breath caught in her throat and she tensed. She placed a hand on the counter as he placed one on her shoulder, gently turning her around so that she was facing him. They gazed into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity, Monica observing that although she was looking into what had become the most familiar and comforting eyes in her life, they suddenly held much more than consolation. As they stood, frozen in the center of his apartment, she noticed something new, something different in those intense sapphire eyes of his, and she wondered with apprehension if it was the same thing that she was certain flashed in her own eyes.
"What's going on with us?" he whispered, frozen with anxiety at the waves that surged through his veins, making him feel flustered and caged in. He longed to discard the restraints that held him back, but at the same time, he clung to them, too afraid of what might happen if he was suddenly free. Monica gazed up at him, recognizing the question as the same one that had occupied her mind for quite some time, and shook her head slightly, indicating that she was just as insecure as he was. He recognized the look of combined fear, anticipation, and desire in her eyes, and he gazed at her, longing for the courage to lean in and kiss her. The possibility of such a kiss hung in the air between them, thickening it and making it seem as though it swirled about them. Unable to ignore the rising tension for a moment longer, Chandler reached up and stroked her cheek lightly, enjoying the feel of her silky smooth skin beneath his fingertips. Monica closed her eyes momentarily, lost at the sensation of his gentle touch. She opened them again and looked into his eyes once more, realizing for the first time just how badly she had fallen. As he leaned in to kiss her, she closed her eyes, anticipating the kiss that she now knew she had been awaiting. As his soft lips met hers, she felt her knees go weak and her pulse quicken as she wrapped her arms nervously around his neck. He moved his hand from her cheek and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawn in by the kiss that he had wanted for so long. The kiss deepened as Chandler hugged her to him tightly, and she let him press her body up against his as she opened her mouth. She let out a small sigh as his tongue entered her mouth, and she savored the intensity of the kiss as he lifted her off the ground, clasping her to him closely. She moved her hands up into his hair and noticed a moment later that he was walking toward the couch. She continued kissing him deeply, not wanting their lips to part. She knew that once they did, an explanation would have to eventually be offered and they would have to make a decision, and right now all she wanted was to be lost in the seeming haze that had enveloped them. As he laid her down on the couch, she kissed him eagerly, reassured when he returned her kisses with an equaled intensity. He slowly moved from her mouth to her neck, and she moaned softly as his soft kisses and hot breath flicked across the tender skin. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands down his chest, trembling slightly when she felt his hands on her stomach under her shirt. He slowly slid them upwards, and as she felt herself becoming more and more wound up, she knew how badly she wanted him. Suddenly a cry broke through the air, and they pulled apart hastily, both momentarily dazed. As they realized that it was Jackson, they stared at each other for a moment before Chandler got up to check on him. As he entered the room, he stood for a moment next to the crib while he tried to calm himself down. He felt as though he were a can of carbonated soda that had been shaken up harshly, and instead of being opened and having the relief of exploding, had instead been placed on a counter to settle down again. He took a deep breath and leaned over, reaching into the crib to pick up the crying baby.
"He asleep?" Monica asked ten minutes later when Chandler finally emerged from the bedroom. He nodded, unsure of what was to happen next. He had thought that the first kiss would be the hardest, but suddenly the second seemed so much more intimidating as he walked over and sat next to Monica on the couch once again. Each avoided the other's gaze, as they tried to hide the turbulent emotions that threatened to push them both over the edge. "I should probably go," Monica said after a moment, and Chandler, too afraid of rejection to ask her to stay, simply nodded resignedly. He stood up and walked her to the door. They smiled. They hugged. They parted on good terms. And they proceeded to avoid each other for two days.
This takes place after Kathy (awhile after, as you'll see soon enough) but before London. Basically, London didn't happen.
Saturday Morning Surprise
"Bill, bill, junk, bill..." Chandler flipped through the mail disinterestedly as he ascended the stairs after a morning jog that had, in all reality, been more like a morning heart-attack-in-the-making. He sighed as he climbed the stairs, a task which took much more effort than it should have, as his legs made it known that they were not happy. "So much for those nutcases who say workouts make you feel great," he muttered, wincing as he felt his hamstrings burn. He sighed and paused momentarily as he reached his floor, closing his eyes and arching his back. Groaning, he turned and froze when he saw something sitting in front of his door. Something that looked remarkably like a bassinet. "Oh, hell," he whispered, taking a step away from it as though it were a time bomb. For a fleeting moment, he weighed his options: one, he could turn and run, hoping that someone else would deal with it. Being that he had neither the energy nor the absence of conscience to do such a thing, he opted for his other choice and timidly approached the bundle, trying to get a peek inside. From the mounds of blankets, he gathered that it was, in fact, a baby's bassinet, and he immediately felt a sense of sympathy take over. "Looks like Joey's finally gone and done it," he thought to himself as he took another step toward it. The thought flew out of his mind when he saw that, in addition to the blanket that undoubtedly covered a child, there was a envelope at the foot of the basket with a name penned carefully across it: "Chandler." Never before had the mere sight of his own name instilled such a sense of fear within him, and he recoiled, terrified, as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. He stood, rooted to the spot, and stared at the name, feeling an unyielding sense of terror take over. His breaths came out in gasps as he sank down onto the step and stared, dumbfounded. Once he had, to a certain degree, regained his senses, he rose slowly and walked softly toward the bassinet, hoping against hope that the hush surrounding it meant that the kid was asleep. He gingerly reached down and seized the envelope, retreating as soon as he had it in his grasp. He sat once again upon the step, and quietly opened it. He was almost too afraid to read the letter, but his curiosity won over his fear, and he anxiously scanned the words.
"Dear Chandler,
I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but I'm afraid I have no choice. I have nowhere else to turn, and I know that this is the best thing that I could do. This is your son, Jackson. He was born on August 19, and his birth certificate and medical records and such are in a folder in his bag. I'm sorry that I'm leaving him with you so suddenly and without an explanation, but there's nothing else that I can do. I know you have a reliable job and that you can give our son a good home. Again, I'm sorry to do this to you, and to him. Please forgive me, but most of all, please take care of him and give him all the love that I can't. Thank you, Chandler.
Kathy"
He swallowed, his heart having leapt into his throat at the first line of the letter. His son? His and Kathy's son? He stared apprehensively at the bassinet again and, after a moment's deliberation, crept toward it once more. Taking a deep breath, he peered nervously into it, and didn't know why he was surprised to see that there was, in fact, a child asleep inside. Perhaps he'd been hoping that this was some wicked joke that one of his friends had decided to play on him, but that suspicion disappeared as he looked, dumbfounded, at the sleeping infant. Unsure of what to do, and not wanting to wake him until he'd at least had a chance to let this sink in somewhat, he gently picked up the bassinet and carried it into the apartment. A quick glance at Joey's still-open bedroom door told him that his friend hadn't yet returned from the previous night's rendezvous, and he gingerly placed the basket on the countertop, making sure that it was well away from the edges. The last thing he needed was to drop the kid, thereby proving just how unfit he was to be in such a situation. The absurdity of it all hit him suddenly, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. The fact that he, a commitment-phobic, cynical, solitary, and only moderately responsible man would ever be put in charge of another human life was insane. He was barely successful at getting Joey to stop choreographing his own Celebrity Deathmatches out of brie cheese figurines and smashing them all over the kitchen counter. How on earth would he be able to care for a child? He shook his head, almost ridiculing himself, as he pushed the thought out of his mind. Of course he wasn't going to be caring for a child. This was all just some mix-up that would be cleared up eventually, and he could go back to living his life, in which the most pressing issue was getting back to the apartment in time for Baywatch. He was jerked back to reality by the faint sound of whimpering, and his eyes locked on the bassinet as he awaited an ear-piercing scream. The whimpering continued, and after a few moments, it increased so that it was somewhere between whimpering and actual crying. He approached the baby nervously, staring down at him and clearing his throat. "Uh, hey there... Jackson. I, uh... I know that you don't know who in the hell I am, but don't you worry... we're going to figure this mess out in no time, okay?" His words apparently had no soothing effect on the baby, whose cries became gradually louder. "Okay, okay, don't cry. Shh... uh... look! It's Jenny McCarthy made out of cheese!" The baby's cries continued, and he threw a desperate glance around the apartment, looking for something, anything, that would calm the kid down. He saw only the duck sitting on the couch, and for a moment he could have sworn that his little duck-face held a humored smirk. He shook his head again. "If you think a duck knows how pathetic you are, you're REALLY losing it," he told himself. Figuring that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to introduce fowl to infant, his face suddenly lit up as he thought of his one hope that remained. "Monica!" He was certain that his baby-crazed friend would know what to do in such a situation, or at least, she would know better than he. Too afraid to pick the kid up while he was awake, he simply ran across the hall and barged into Monica and Rachel's apartment, leaving both doors open so that he could at least still hear the kid. "Monica?" He ran to her closed bedroom door and pounded on it frantically. "Mon?" She opened it, having just gotten out of the shower, in nothing more than a bathrobe. "Mon, you gotta help me."
"Chandler, what the hell... are you okay?" She looked at him, the concern written plainly across her face. Although Chandler was, by nature, a relatively high-strung individual, it took quite a bit to push him to the point of a crazed frenzy. "What's wrong?" Realizing she probably wouldn't believe it if he told her, and not having the energy to find out, he simply jerked his head in the direction of his apartment.
"Let me show you something," he said simply, knowing that it would be the easiest way to broach the subject. Intrigued by his odd behavior, she didn't argue, despite the fact that she was in a bathrobe, and wordlessly followed behind him.
"You know," she said absently as she heard the wails, "it's Saturday morning. You might want to turn your TV down a bit." She didn't see the ironic half-smile that crossed his face as he led her across the hall. When she caught sight of the bassinet that was still perched on the counter, her eyes narrowed in confusion and apprehension. "What the hell?" Not bothering to finish the question, she turned to Chandler, requesting an explanation with her eyes. Still not having what he figured would be the adequate words, he grabbed Kathy's letter and extended it toward her, leaning back against the countertop as her eyes ran over the lines. She looked up at him after a few moments, her eyes a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and concern. "What are you going to do?" He stared at her, painfully aware of the fact that he hadn't the slightest idea. He shrugged, still not entirely conscious of the gravity of the situation.
"I don't know," he said pointlessly. "But I figure getting the kid to stop crying would be step one."
"Did you try holding him?" The look he gave her, which implied that she might as well have sprouted wings and flown about the room, said it all. She looked at him skeptically and approached the baby, cooing as her maternal instincts took over. "Yes, there we go..." she murmured as she lifted him and cradled him in her arms and his cries once again quieted to a few sporadic whimpers. She turned to Chandler, a smile on her face. "See? That's all he wanted." She turned once again to the baby, a silly grin took over her face, and she developed a voice to match. "Wasn't it? You just wanted to be held, didn't you? Yes, you did." As she bounced the baby up and down on her hip, she faced Chandler once more. "So... what are you going to do for now?" she asked, knowing too well that asking long-term questions would only freak him out. He shrugged again, watching the bouncing bundle warily.
"Don't babies puke a lot?" he asked suspiciously. "I know if someone bounced me like that I'd start to feel a little queasy." Monica chuckled slightly as she looked at Chandler thoughtfully. After a moment, she stepped closer to him.
"Okay... you are now going to hold him... after all, he is your son... apparently," she added, removing the baby from her hip and standing directly in front of Chandler. He immediately flinched, as if she'd approached him with a blowtorch, shaking his head violently.
"I don't know how to hold him," he objected. "I-- I'll drop him."
"You won't drop him," Monica reassured him. "Come on... it's not hard." Chandler stood awkwardly as Monica positioned the baby in his arms. "See?" she said, standing back with a satisfied look on her face. "There. You're doing fine." She felt an odd sense rush over her as she saw him standing there, looking terrified to his very core, and she realized she'd never before seen Chandler hold a baby, except for Ben, and Ben had been much older. She smiled warmly. "I'm just going to go get dressed." His faced twisted into a look of panic as he imagined himself left alone with Jackson once again. "Calm down," she said, reading his thoughts. "I'll be two minutes, okay?" He nodded wistfully and watched as she walked out. Holding the baby gingerly, he walked toward the barcalounger and sank back into it slowly, trying not to disturb the baby's peaceful state. Still holding him firmly, he propped the baby up on his knee and stared at him, realizing that it was the first time he'd taken a good look at who was allegedly his son. He bounced his knee slightly, relieved when the baby seemed to enjoy it, and prayed that he wouldn't become the target of a repulsive wad of baby-vomit. After a few moments, Jackson smiled slightly, and Chandler found himself grinning. Maybe he could handle this for awhile after all. Not a long while. But awhile. Like... days, maybe. Despite his nonexistent knowledge in the field of child-rearing, he had an inkling of satisfaction at the idea that he was someone's father. The notion quickly disappeared when he remembered the predicament he was in, and he hastily stopped bouncing the baby. He stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded, and breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Monica re-enter, turning to face her as she sat in the barcalounger next to him. Neither was entirely sure of what to say, so bizarre was the situation. Finally, Chandler broke the silence as he resumed the bouncing of his knee.
"Well, what do I do?" he asked, not sure exactly what it was that he wanted to hear. Monica shook her head and was silent for a moment.
"I guess..." she paused and looked at him carefully, not wanting to alarm him, before she continued. "I guess... you can do one of three things. You can either (a) keep him." Chandler visibly tensed, a reaction that Monica chose to ignore. "You can (b) turn him over to the state and hope that he gets adopted by a decent family. Or (c) you can try and track down Kathy." Chandler was silent as he dealt with the reality of her suggestions. He knew she was right, and yet each idea brought with it a string of concerns and downsides. After a thoughtful silence, he spoke gently, looking once again at Jackson, whose chubby hands had managed to find the drawstring on Chandler's hooded sweatshirt. As he tugged on them gently, his father watched with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth.
"I don't think I could give him over to strangers," he said sadly. "I mean... so many bad things could happen to him, and I don't think I could deal with that possibility." Monica nodded understandingly and waited for him to continue. "I-- I guess we could try to find Kathy," he said, not sounding entirely convinced that he wanted to do so. He sighed and gently untangled Jackson's hand from the cord in which it had gotten snarled, feeling a strange sensation in his stomach when the baby grasped onto his hand instead. He stared at him, wondering what was happening to him. Half an hour ago, he had been petrified of even touching the baby, and now he felt oddly pleased by the paternal feelings that had risen within him. Aware that she was witnessing a character change in the making, Monica reached over and patted his hand comfortingly.
"Well, whatever you decide, you don't need to do it yet." He looked over at her, grateful that she understood him so well, and nodded. "Why don't we feed him?" she then suggested. "There's probably a bottle or some formula in that bag of his," she added. Chandler nodded again and she rose from the chair, walking over to the bag and sifting through its contents. "Ah-ha!" she cried triumphantly. "We have a winner! We just have to heat it up," she added, turning to look at the stove.
Chandler stood up, propping Jackson up on his hip. "Okay, well, why don't you show me how to do it?" Monica looked at him, surprised. She was amazed at how well he was dealing with this. The man who bordered on hysterical at minor incidents was suddenly acting like he could actually pull off being someone's father, if only temporarily. She nodded and held the bottle out toward him.
"Heat some water," she directed. "Then stick the bottle in it and wait for it to heat up." Chandler nodded.
"Sounds simple enough." He did as he was told after Monica had taken the baby from his arms and watched the bottle intently. He periodically glanced at Monica and Jackson, wondering what was going to become of his son. As the word "son" spun around in his mind, he found himself lost in images of childhood. The stereotypical images that he was sure flashed through the mind of every parent and parent-to-be: teaching his son to walk, to throw a baseball, to shave. He felt a pang of guilt when he thought of surrendering his son to someone else, and recalled with a twinge of resentment how he had grown to begrudge his own father for leaving HIM to grow up without one. He sighed as he watched the bottle gradually steam up, and heeding Monica's directions, he removed it from the pot carefully and dried it off. He went to extend it toward Jackson, but was admonished by Monica. "Wait! You have to check it on your wrist first," she informed him.
"Why?" he asked absently as he squirted a few drops of the milk onto his wrist, and flinched as the hot liquid stung the tender skin.
"That's why," she replied with a sympathetic smile. He grimaced and placed the bottle down on the counter.
"Perhaps we'll just wait for a moment," he suggested. She grinned as she continued to bounce Jackson and listen to his baby giggles.
Later that evening, after having explained the entire situation to the rest of the group, Chandler found that he'd grown even more fond of Jackson and his little baby ways. He didn't understand why he was feeling such affection toward a relative stranger, and he wondered where it was coming from. Yet, at the same time, it was almost as if he understood it, and didn't want to let it go. It was that part of him that told him not to bother looking for a home for Jackson or searching for Kathy... it was that part that told him that his son belonged with him. As he sat on the couch in Monica's apartment after dinner, once again bouncing his son up and down on his knee, he felt the oddly familiar sensation that he had experienced more than once during the day, and at the same time, he felt the anxiety return at knowing he was faced with a complex decision.
"How you holding up there?" Monica asked as she came and sat down next to him while the other four cleared away the dishes from the dinner she'd made for everyone.
"Good," he replied thoughtfully. "I was just thinking."
"I can imagine," she replied with a smile. He turned to face her.
"Mon, thanks for helping me out this morning. I was so dazed, and I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped me." She smiled warmly.
"Chandler, you don't have to thank me," she replied. "Plus, I got to play with this little guy," she added, taking hold of Jackson's tiny hand and grinning. Chandler smiled as he maneuvered the baby so that he was lying down in his father's arms and turned to Monica.
"Would you mind holding him for a second while I fix his bottle?" he asked. "I mean, I guess it's probably about bedtime, right? What time do babies usually sleep?" Monica chuckled as she noticed his anxiety return.
"Good call," she commended him. "He's looking kind of tired." Chandler smiled, relieved, and rose from the couch. As Monica sat cradling Jackson in her arms as he gripped onto her necklace, she found herself noticing that she could actually see Chandler in his face. He had piercing blue eyes, sharper than the general blue present in most babies' eyes, and she noted how they looked like Chandler's. The small amount of hair was a sandy brown, as she knew Chandler's had been when he was younger, and when the baby smiled, she could practically see the resemblance between father and son. She was jolted back into the moment when she noticed Chandler hovering over her with his son's dinner.
"I checked it this time," he declared proudly, smiling. She laughed and moved as if to hand him over, but Chandler looked at her carefully. "You want to feed him?" he asked, recognizing the motherly look that she tended to get whenever she saw anything in diapers. She looked up at him and grinned.
"You wouldn't mind?" He smiled and shook his head gently as he handed her the bottle and lowered himself to sit next to her again.
"Actually, I was thinking," he said in a low voice. "And... I think I'm going to have plenty of opportunities to feed him in the future." Monica looked up at him, surprised that he had reached a decision so quickly, yet not wholly surprised what his decision was. For all the aggravation they gave him for being commitment-phobic, she knew how strongly he felt about family, and she could understand it, given his relationship with his parents. After a moment of his looking at her, as if awaiting her approval, she nodded sincerely and he released the breath that had somehow gotten caught in his chest. He rested his arm on the back of the sofa behind Monica and watched as she fed his son, feeling the fatherly feelings surface once again as he observed the way the baby's tiny hands tried to grasp the bottle. He was only dimly aware of the fact that the other four members of their sextet were staring at them, after a comment from Phoebe that was too low for either Chandler or Monica to hear.
"Looks like we might have a couple more lobsters in our midst," she said in the voice that often accompanied her "psychic" observations. She let that comment hang in the air as they watched Monica and Chandler gazing down at the baby.
As she entered Chandler's apartment the next day, she laughed out loud at the sight that met her eyes. Chandler was sitting with Jackson in his lap, and both of them had their eyes glued to the TV set, which was, as usual, showing Baywatch. Upon hearing her laugh, Chandler arched his head back, in at attempt not to break Jackson's interest, now that he was sitting still. He grinned as Monica shook her head. "Like father like son, I guess," she observed, smiling. Chandler's grin broadened and he indicated toward the seat next to him. Sinking into it, Monica was silent for a moment before she spoke. "How was he last night?"
"Good," Chandler answered after a moment. "Although he was awake at five-thirty this morning... but at least he wasn't crying in the middle of the night."
"He's really good," Monica said, slightly surprised that a child of Chandler's wasn't as jittery as his father. "Surprising, given what's in his genes," she added with a smirk.
"Oh, ha ha," Chandler replied, although smiling. "Yeah, he is good," he agreed, looking at the baby affectionately. Monica had to keep from shaking her head at how Chandler seemed to have changed overnight. She'd heard that becoming a parent could change even the most irresponsible person, but it was a change that she wasn't sure she'd ever see Chandler undergo. She smiled as she broke the silence once more.
"I was thinking, if that bag is all that Kathy left with him, maybe we should go and buy a few things today," she suggested. "Just small things, like a few changes of clothes, diapers, formula... stuff like that." Chandler looked at her uneasily. So far this parenting thing had been relatively easy, but he wasn't sure he was ready for baby shopping. She smiled, easing his anxiety. "I'll come with you," she offered with a smile. "I wouldn't let you go alone... God knows what you'd come back with." Chandler resisted the urge to make a defensive joke, knowing that she was entirely correct in her assumptions.
"Okay," he agreed after a moment. "Sounds good." Monica nodded, almost excited at the prospect, and ran out of the apartment to get her jacket and purse. Chandler grabbed his coat and stood outside her apartment door, ready to go. She emerged a moment later and gave him a funny look.
"You're not ready," she informed him. He looked at her, confused.
"Huh?"
"Jackson," she answered. "He can't go out like that."
"Well, I agree with you, Mon, baby hippos aren't exactly the latest fashion, but he really doesn't seem to mind all that much." She shook her head sighing.
"I mean," she explained, "you don't have any of his stuff."
"Stuff?" Chandler repeated, beginning to feel inadequate once again.
"Diapers, clothes, baby wipes, bottle, pacifier, blanket, hat," she rattled off, watching as Chandler's face went from curious to horrified. She chuckled slightly. "Just grab his bag," she suggested. He did so, and they left the apartment.
"Uh, Mon?" Chandler asked timidly as they roamed the aisles of the nearest baby superstore. He was pushing the cart, with Jackson in the baby seat, and staring at the mountain of stuff they had managed to acquire in only thirty minutes.
"Hmm?" she replied absently, comparing two different types of baby wipes.
"Well, I appreciate your help, don't get me wrong, but uh... he's living in my apartment, not going on a world-round trip." Monica turned to face him, a slightly sympathetic look on her face.
"Babies need lots of stuff, Chandler," she informed him. He simply nodded, realizing that it would be foolish for him to argue with Monica, the baby guru, and continued to push the basket. Awhile later, as the baby began to whimper, Chandler gently lifted him out of the seat.
"It's okay, Jack," he whispered, bouncing him lightly on his hip as Monica had done. He stopped whimpering and Chandler smiled, satisfied. After gazing at them momentarily, Monica returned to scanning the aisles for anything they might need and grabbed some empty bottles, tossing them onto the heap of products they'd obtained.
"You're going to have to sterilize the nipples," she told him absently as she picked up a pack of pacifiers.
"Beg your pardon?" he replied, perturbed. She snapped back to reality, almost laughing at the slightly disturbed expression on his face. "The bottle nipples," she said with a smile. "Before you feed him," she explained.
"Oh," he said, nodding. He wondered how she knew all this, despite the fact that she didn't have a kid. He eventually decided that it must be that pamphlet that he was sure all women got when they were teenagers that explained the stuff men never seemed to know. Like the fact that you can get a broken light bulb out of the light fixture with half a potato. Or that hairspray can remove ink from your skin. And, apparently, every possible accessory that a baby could ever need. He watched, relieved, as Monica surveyed their basket.
"I think that's most of it," she said thoughtfully. "For now, anyway." Chandler resisted the urge to ask how he could need anything more when they'd bought practically the entire store, but he bit his tongue. He knew Monica understood far better than he what she was doing, and he was grateful for her help.
As they stood at the checkout counter ringing up their purchases, Monica gazed at Chandler and Jackson with an expression with which he was all-too familiar. Wordlessly, he handed the baby to her and took out his credit card. He extended his finger toward his son, and the baby grabbed hold of it in his tiny hand and grinned a toothless grin, proceeding to stick the finger into his mouth. Chandler chuckled as he did so, and the cashier watched with a kind smile. "Such a beautiful family," she said warmly, as both Chandler and Monica's heads snapped up to look first at her, and then each other.
They were both equally surprised when Chandler said only, "Thank you," and proceeded to dump the bags back into his cart. The woman gave a little wave toward Jackson as the three left the store, and Monica agreeably picked up his hand and waved back at her. They were silent as they sat in the cab on the way home, a silence that was eventually broken by Chandler nervously clearing his throat. "Mon, I'm sorry about back there, I just didn't want to have to explain--" He was cut off by Monica holding up her hand and smiling.
"It's cool, Chandler," she said affably. "I totally understand." He nodded thankfully and sat back against the seat, looking over at Monica and his son, wondering what had possessed him to go along with the idea of the three of them being a family. As he observed how Monica made silly faces and Jack laughed and clapped his pudgy hands together happily, he realized what a good mother she was going to make one of these days. He'd always thought she'd be the first to have a child, with the exception of Ross, and he felt a strange twinge of jealousy when he imagined Monica getting married and having a child of her own. He dismissed the feeling with a slight shake of his head, admonishing himself silently and deciding that he was just feeling strange because of the whirlwind of events of the past couple of days, and he joined in with the laughter of Monica and his son.
"Monica, you do realize what you're doing, don't you?" It was a week later, and Mon was changing the baby as Rachel stood a safe distance away. Monica ignored her a cooed down at Jackson as she snapped the buttons on his all-in-one together. As she lifted him, she placed him on her hip and finally turned to face Rachel, a wary expression on her face. "You're trying to be his mother!" she exclaimed forcefully, watching as Monica rolled her eyes and moved toward the kitchen to check the bottle she was preparing.
"Rachel, don't be ridiculous," she dismissed her. "I am NOT trying to be his mother. I'm just trying to help Chandler out," she insisted. "He's my friend, and he needs some support right now. Plus," she added, turning toward her friend boldly. "I'm pretty sure YOU wouldn't have helped him out, am I right?" Rachel faltered as she stared at the baby.
"Well, I would have if I knew anything about babies," she eventually argued, and Monica just smirked. "Where is Chandler right now?" she asked Monica, trying again to make her point.
"Knicks game," she replied without missing a beat.
"Yeah, exactly," Rachel answered, thinking she'd made her point.
"Yeah, so? So I'm baby-sitting while he goes out and relaxes with the guys," she retorted. "It's not like he's constantly dumping Jack with me. He just needed a break."
"Oh, please, Monica... it's painfully obvious that you've got this idea into your head of you and Chandler and Jack as a perfect family. Well, that can't work, I'm afraid, given that who WOULD be his father and his mother are friends and nothing more." She paused, remembering the remark Phoebe had made a week earlier. "Unless..." she trailed off momentarily, and then her voice broke the silence with a satisfied pronouncement. "You're falling for Chandler!"
Monica felt like a deer caught in the headlights, and she spun around to check the bottle so that Rachel couldn't feel the blush that had crept into her face. "You're crazy," she said weakly, unable to think of an adequate retort.
"I get it now," Rachel said insistently. "Now that he's matured... now that he's got this father-like air around him... you're falling for him!" she repeated emphatically, realizing with satisfaction that she'd trapped her friend. "His paternal senses have triggered something in that baby-obsessed mind of yours, and you're slowly but surely becoming more and more crazy about him."
"Please, Rachel," Monica said once she had regained her senses. "Chandler and I are friends. Nothing more." She tried to keep her voice even, but she knew there had been a strain present in her speech when she'd said the last part. She just hoped that Rachel hadn't picked up on it. She couldn't deny that she was seeing Chandler in a whole new light, but she had managed to convince herself that she was just impressed with the way in which he'd become so responsible over the past week. Now, with Rachel trying to dissect her emotions, she realized that she was going to have to examine them for herself if she was ever going to figure out what was going on. "Now," she said, trying to change the subject. "Are you going to help me feed him or not?"
"KNICKS RULE!" Joey cried as the three guys stood up to leave the arena once the game had ended. He almost quivered with excitement as he faced Ross and Chandler. "Yeah, baby! We POUNDED those Nets! They were MUTILATED!" Chandler and Ross chuckled slightly, as they were always amused by the animation that surfaced in Joey whenever the Knicks were brought into the picture. They slowly followed the surging crowd out into the open as the dome emptied. "Hey, you guys wanna go get a beer and celebrate?" Ross asked, noting that it was still somewhat early for a Saturday night.
"I can't, man," Chandler replied. "Monica's watching Jack and I don't want to leave her too long."
"Aw, c'mon Chandler," Joey urged. "You know what Monica's like with babies. She has absolutely no sense of time." Chandler shook his head apologetically.
"Sorry, guys," he replied, unwavering. "Can't." Ross and Joey shared a look.
"You know, man, the more time you guys spend with that kid, the more it's like watching a rerun of 'Leave it to Beaver' or something," Joey said.
"There wasn't a baby in 'Leave it to Beaver,'" Chandler replied absently as he tried to hail a cab. None stopped, and he stood next to Ross and Joey on the sidewalk, turning to face them. "And what's your point, anyway?"
"You and Monica," Joey continued after a moment. "It's almost like you guys are married or something, and you've got to get home to the missus." Chandler snorted and turned away, racking his brain for something to say. He'd been questioning himself ever since the idea of Monica starting a family had made him jealous, and the fact that Joey and Ross might have picked up on it alarmed him.
"Look," he replied insistently. "She's been helping me out, and I don't want to take advantage of that. That's all."
"Oh, please," Joey scoffed. "You love the idea of her at home with the baby and you walking in all 'Honey, I'm home.'" He paused and a look of realization crossed his face. "You like her."
"Well of course I like her," Chandler replied, exasperated. "She's one of my best friends." Ross shook his head, agreeing with Joey.
"No, man, you LIKE her, like her. Like you LIKE-liked Kathy." Chandler was silent for a moment as he tried to think of a response, but the silence lingered when none came to mind.
"Taxi!" he yelled instead, waving his arm at a passing cab, relieved when it slowed and pulled up to the curb. He turned to glance at Ross and Joey as he jumped into the cab and they shared a knowing look as they got in behind him.
"Da-da," Chandler encouraged as he knelt in front of his son. "C'mon, Jack, say 'Da-da.'" The baby grinned and bounced, reaching out and grasping Chandler's nose. He groaned. "I guess you inherited my incredibly short attention span," he grumbled as the baby laughed again. He couldn't hide the smile that crossed his face, and he laughed as Jack bounced again. He thought back to just over a week ago, and wondered what he'd done with his time before Jackson had shown up. Nothing of value, he decided, as he stared at the baby. He was in awe of the fact that he had a son, and he was beginning to realize that being a parent was something that he was actually good at. His determination at making sure his son had a better childhood than he'd had caused his fatherly instincts to be almost natural, and he was surprised at the ease with which he had managed to discover them. Monica stood by the door unnoticed as she watched Chandler urging his son to speak. "Da-da," he demonstrated again.
"You know, too much pressure at a young age can lead to scarring later in life," she joked, alerting him of her presence. He looked up and smiled.
"Hey," he greeted her, turning once again to face Jack. "I just wanted to see if he'd say it," he said, as if he thought he owed her an explanation.
"Well," she said knowingly, "he's at about the right age." Chandler's eyes widened.
"Really?" He turned back to the baby once more. "You hear that, Jack? It's about time, so let me hear it. Da-da."
"Goo," he replied defiantly, and Monica laughed as Chandler sighed.
"Okay, you have the rest of the day off," he said. "But tomorrow I wanna hear some words." He lifted Jack and placed him in the playpen that he and Joey had assembled, and then turned to face Monica. "What's up, beautiful?"
"Eh... not a lot. I was bored, so I figured I'd come over here and see what you were up to." Chandler shrugged.
"Taking my boredom out on my son, apparently," he remarked, causing Mon to laugh again.
"Where is everybody, anyway?"
"Um... well, Rachel's working, Phoebe and Joey are out on dates, and Ross is out with Carol and Susan for Ben's birthday." Chandler nodded as he glanced at his watch.
"And you have no plans at 8:00 on a Friday night?" he asked, looking at her questioningly. She shrugged and he continued. "Well, I was just going to put Jack to bed... if you want, we could order some Chinese and watch a movie or something." Monica grinned.
"You read my mind," she said warmly. He smiled back.
"Okay, let me just get Jack ready to sleep... you want to call and order the food?"
"Sure... you just want your usual?" He nodded with a grin and picked Jackson up out of his playpen as she grabbed the phone. He gently placed the baby down on the changing table in his room as he grabbed a fresh diaper and a pajama-type ensemble from one of the shelves. Monica entered a moment later. "It'll be here in about ten or fifteen minutes," she informed him. He nodded as he undressed Jackson and changed his diaper quickly, muttering something about the joys of fatherhood. "At least he's a boy," Monica pointed out. "I can see you being a little more uneasy if you had a daughter to deal with." After a moment, a mischievous grin crept over Chandler's face.
"He's not just a boy," he said proudly, and with a raising of his eyebrow. "He's a Bing man!" Monica laughed as Chandler smiled again and snapped the light blue all-in-one up. "Okay, Jack," he said, admiring his work. "All done." Jack clapped his hands and smiled. "Now, don't you think I deserve a 'da-da' for that? Come on, Jack. Da-da. Say da-da."
"Da," Jack mimicked obediently, and the way Chandler's face lit up was priceless.
"Did you hear that?!" he exclaimed, looking at Monica and then turning back to his son once more. "Say it again, Jack," he pleaded. "Da-da."
"Da," he repeated again. Chandler grinned, feeling something stirring inside him. He turned to look at Monica, who looked like she was on the verge of tears, and then back to his son.
"How about Monica?" he suggested. "Say 'Mon,'" he directed. "Come on, Jack... 'Mon.'"
"Ma," Jack suggested, and both Monica and Chandler froze, both fully aware of how close "Mon" and "Mom" sounded, although neither had given a thought to it before. Chandler stood abruptly and Monica stood frozen next to him, neither having a clue as to what should be said. Bored with the silence, Jack began to fidget and Chandler cleared his throat.
"Well, I, uh... I guess it's time for bed," he suggested awkwardly, silently cursing himself for not anticipating the outcome of getting his son to try saying "Mon." Monica nodded quickly.
"Yeah, I'll just, um... go wait for the delivery guy. She gave Jackson a quick kiss on the forehead, as she did practically every night before he went to bed, and exited the room hastily. Chandler sighed and sank back onto his bed with Jackson still in his arms.
"Thanks a lot for that one," he said dryly, rubbing his son's back. "I see you're siding with Uncle Ross and Uncle Joey." He paused for a moment, deep in thought, and continued to rub Jack's back absently, his mind hazy. After a moment, he was jerked back to reality by Jackson's squirming, and he slowly stood up from the bed, placing his son in the crib next to it. He placed a light kiss on the baby's forehead and gently covered him with a blanket. "'Night," he murmured as he turned to walk back into the living area.
They stared at each other in an awkward silence, but as Chandler opened his mouth to break it, a knock on the door beat him to it. Monica spun, welcoming the interruption, and opened the door to reveal the Chinese delivery guy with whom they'd become quite familiar. She accepted the food as Chandler jumped in and paid him, and he left. "Thanks," Monica said uneasily, referring to his buying her meal. He grinned.
"No problem." The silence returned as they took the food out of the bags and sat on the barcaloungers. They ate their meal quietly, both being clueless as to what to say. Finally, having finished the food, Chandler spoke. "Sorry 'bout that," he apologized. She turned to face him, frowning slightly.
"Why?"
"I didn't mean to make you feel awkward," he explained. "It's just... you spend almost as much time with him as I do, and I figured it would be neat if he could say your name as well. That's all."
"Oh, no, Chandler, I wasn't upset by it. I just... I don't want you to feel as though I'm invading your territory or anything. After all, you are his father, and I'm..." she paused, trying to find the right words. "I'm just your friend," she finished after a moment, and Chandler wondered if the wistful tone of her words was in his imagination.
"You're more than that," he whispered uneasily. "You're... you're just... more than that. To both of us," he added. Suddenly feeling as though his liquid blue eyes were burning a hole right through her, Monica looked away as she felt the blush creep up her neck and into her cheeks. Chandler mentally scolded himself, suspecting that he'd made her even more uncomfortable. "Look Mon," he tried again. "Most of all, I just want to say... thank you for being there for me... and for Jack. I don't know how I would have managed without you these past weeks. I probably would have ended up being a horrible father and losing him," he said frankly. Monica turned to look at him sharply.
"Chandler, you couldn't be a bad father if you tried," she argued emphatically. He looked at her skeptically, and she continued. "Look, the stuff I helped you with... that was textbook stuff. Feeding tips, different symptoms, general knowledge... all that you could have gotten by reading a book. Being a good father... you can't get that from a book, and you can't learn it. You either have it, or you don't. And you do. It stems from having a good heart, and no one in this world, Chandler Bing, can rival you in that department. You are an excellent father, and although I was partially surprised by that fact, I also understand it. I've seen you change before my eyes recently... we all have... and you are a wonderful father." Chandler was left speechless, taken aback by her sincere words. She blushed again and looked away, standing and dumping their empty food cartons into the garbage. He stood up, resolving to do something to at least put a definition to their relationship, and as she felt his presence right behind her, her breath caught in her throat and she tensed. She placed a hand on the counter as he placed one on her shoulder, gently turning her around so that she was facing him. They gazed into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity, Monica observing that although she was looking into what had become the most familiar and comforting eyes in her life, they suddenly held much more than consolation. As they stood, frozen in the center of his apartment, she noticed something new, something different in those intense sapphire eyes of his, and she wondered with apprehension if it was the same thing that she was certain flashed in her own eyes.
"What's going on with us?" he whispered, frozen with anxiety at the waves that surged through his veins, making him feel flustered and caged in. He longed to discard the restraints that held him back, but at the same time, he clung to them, too afraid of what might happen if he was suddenly free. Monica gazed up at him, recognizing the question as the same one that had occupied her mind for quite some time, and shook her head slightly, indicating that she was just as insecure as he was. He recognized the look of combined fear, anticipation, and desire in her eyes, and he gazed at her, longing for the courage to lean in and kiss her. The possibility of such a kiss hung in the air between them, thickening it and making it seem as though it swirled about them. Unable to ignore the rising tension for a moment longer, Chandler reached up and stroked her cheek lightly, enjoying the feel of her silky smooth skin beneath his fingertips. Monica closed her eyes momentarily, lost at the sensation of his gentle touch. She opened them again and looked into his eyes once more, realizing for the first time just how badly she had fallen. As he leaned in to kiss her, she closed her eyes, anticipating the kiss that she now knew she had been awaiting. As his soft lips met hers, she felt her knees go weak and her pulse quicken as she wrapped her arms nervously around his neck. He moved his hand from her cheek and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawn in by the kiss that he had wanted for so long. The kiss deepened as Chandler hugged her to him tightly, and she let him press her body up against his as she opened her mouth. She let out a small sigh as his tongue entered her mouth, and she savored the intensity of the kiss as he lifted her off the ground, clasping her to him closely. She moved her hands up into his hair and noticed a moment later that he was walking toward the couch. She continued kissing him deeply, not wanting their lips to part. She knew that once they did, an explanation would have to eventually be offered and they would have to make a decision, and right now all she wanted was to be lost in the seeming haze that had enveloped them. As he laid her down on the couch, she kissed him eagerly, reassured when he returned her kisses with an equaled intensity. He slowly moved from her mouth to her neck, and she moaned softly as his soft kisses and hot breath flicked across the tender skin. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands down his chest, trembling slightly when she felt his hands on her stomach under her shirt. He slowly slid them upwards, and as she felt herself becoming more and more wound up, she knew how badly she wanted him. Suddenly a cry broke through the air, and they pulled apart hastily, both momentarily dazed. As they realized that it was Jackson, they stared at each other for a moment before Chandler got up to check on him. As he entered the room, he stood for a moment next to the crib while he tried to calm himself down. He felt as though he were a can of carbonated soda that had been shaken up harshly, and instead of being opened and having the relief of exploding, had instead been placed on a counter to settle down again. He took a deep breath and leaned over, reaching into the crib to pick up the crying baby.
"He asleep?" Monica asked ten minutes later when Chandler finally emerged from the bedroom. He nodded, unsure of what was to happen next. He had thought that the first kiss would be the hardest, but suddenly the second seemed so much more intimidating as he walked over and sat next to Monica on the couch once again. Each avoided the other's gaze, as they tried to hide the turbulent emotions that threatened to push them both over the edge. "I should probably go," Monica said after a moment, and Chandler, too afraid of rejection to ask her to stay, simply nodded resignedly. He stood up and walked her to the door. They smiled. They hugged. They parted on good terms. And they proceeded to avoid each other for two days.