"Who wouldn't want you?"

"Please," she said, flippantly. "I'm a single mom with a 30 year old son!"

"Alrighty then," he said, after a moment as he patted her on the shoulder. "We need to get you out of here. Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?" she asked as he started guiding her by the elbow.

"Somewhere where you can get nice and drunk," he said, walking down the hallway, his eyes scanning for space at the crowded hotel bar, "and so can I."

"What?"

"Ah, nothing!" he said, hoping his last comment was said low enough that she couldn't hear him. Just as they walked up to the bar a couple got up to leave. Chandler snagged the stools and helped Monica onto hers before squeezing in beside her.

"Scotch, rocks, twist," Monica snapped to the bartender before he could even greet them properly. Chandler raised his eyebrows at her, then turned to the bartender and smiled at the smirk on his face.

"Make it two," he said with a nod.

"Make it a double," Monica added.

"Okayyy," he said, palms down in a waving motion as the bartender left to get their drinks. "You need to slow down there, Slick."

"Slick?"

"Er, Tiger?"

She nearly snarled at him, a disgusted look on her face. He sighed.

"Look," he said, turning to face her. She reluctantly put her elbow on the edge of the bar, the side of her face in her palm as she half-heartedly turned to face him, too.

"Why do you care what some drunk, British stranger says to you? I mean, come on Mon, you gotta let that stuff go."

"Chandler," she said, slapping her hand down on the bar, causing him to jump a little. "I have been the queen of 'letting that stuff go' my entire life. From my Mom, my Dad, my brother, who's getting married…again, by the way…"

"Is that what we're doing here?" he joked, feigning confusion.

"Not now," she warned in a high pitched voice, glaring at him. "Not in the mood."

He pursed his lips and sighed as she continued.

"Tomorrow I'll slap on a smile and a bridesmaid dress, again, and be the dutiful happy sister or friend or caterer or whatever supporting role I have to play, but when is it my time, Chandler? When?" she asked, not really expecting an answer. "When am I gonna have the guy and the baby and the, ya know, white picket fence, huh? When it is my turn?"

"So, what you're telling me is you wanna live inside an episode of 'Leave it to Beaver,'" he deadpanned, trying again to lighten the mood. She still wasn't buying it and now, she was pissed. She stood up.

"I should have known you wouldn't understand," she said, grabbing her purse and turning away as he grabbed her arm.

"Wait, now wait a minute, Mon, I'm sorry, OK?" he said as he gently pulled her back onto the bar stool. "I'm sorry."

She eyed him wearily as she reluctantly settled back down on the bar stool.

"Will you stop being a shmuck and just be my friend?" she asked, a doubtful expression on her face.

"Yes," he said, his hands raising in surrender as the bartender brought their drinks and Chandler gave him his room number to charge the bill. They each took a sip, then Chandler cleared his throat and cracked his neck. He nodded.

"Go ahead, I'm listening," he said, blinking and widening his eyes at her, trying to demonstrate his sincerity. She smiled despite herself and he grinned.

"Listen, I'm happy for Ross," she sighed, ringing her glass with her fingertip. "I really am, but I…I couldn't even think of anyone to invite to this wedding, ya know? I'm not. I'm not even close to…any of this. Getting married and, God, I'm light years away from having a baby of my own…"

Chandler was nodding along dutifully as she spoke, but the soft, sad look in Monica's eyes suddenly grabbed his full attention.

"Maybe none of this will ever happen for me," she continued forlornly. "Maybe I'll never get married or have a family…"

"Now come on," he said, with a disbelieving chuckle. "That's not gonna happen…"

"It might," she said, cocking an eyebrow at him as she continued to sip on her scotch. She tipped her glass to him and smirked, "I might end up as an old spinster cook after all."

"Hey," he said, curling his fingers around the glass she was gulping from and gently pulling it from her lips. "That's never, ever gonna happen to you, OK? You are one of the greatest people I know, Mon. You're kind and loving and, ya know, pretty damn beautiful when you're not chugging alcohol like a sailor. This is all gonna happen for you someday…"

She cocked an eyebrow at him, her head beginning to spin. Chandler picked up his glass and took a long sip of his scotch, wondering if he got through to her.

"Doubtful," she said decidedly and he sighed, rolling his eyes as picked up his glass. He raised it in a toast.

"Well, if I can't convince you I suppose I'll join you," he said, gesturing his glass towards hers.

"Now, that's the spirit," she grinned at him, raising her glass, too.

"Here's to both of us growing old, single and alone. A spinster cook and an old, bachelor…transponster, apparently," he said and Monica burst out laughing. Chandler smiled wide as they clinked their glasses together, each enjoying a long sip thereafter.

"Will you visit me if I have snakes?" he asked.

"Hum," she said, licking the scotch off her lips. "Maybe."

He raised his eyebrows and motioned the bartender for another round. "Gee, thanks."

"No, I will, I'll come visit," she promised, laying a hand on his arm. For a couple moments they continued to finish off the first round, the chatter and hum of the other hotel guests around them filling the otherwise comfortable silence between them.
"So, how long do you think I should wait to get the snakes?" he contemplated suddenly, strumming his fingers on his chin.

"What?" she asked, turning to him. She couldn't believe he was still thinking about snakes.

"I'm almost 30, so, what? 35? 40?" he asked somewhat rhetorically but also genuinely curious. "Maybe I should wait until Chick and Duck are gone, or Joey's married and out of the apartment, whichever comes first."

"You are seriously thinking about this?" she asked, her eyes wide but a bemused look on her face.

"Sure," he said with a nod. "Gotta plan for the future, right? Single and 40 is right around the corner."

"Eh, don't remind me," she said, wincing and taking a shot of her new drink.

He shrugged and took another shot of alcohol as the hairs on his neck stood up. He sat up straight, turning to her with a teasing smile on his face.
"Hey, I don't need snakes," he said, nudging her shoulder with his. "I just remembered, we have a deal."

"What deal?" she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, I guess it's not really a deal since you didn't agree to it…"

"Chandler," she said, exasperated. "What are you talking about?"

"Remember? If we're single and 40 I told you we should…"

"Oh," she remembered, with a wave of her hand. "Get together and have a baby. Yeah, right. Um, you were joking."

"What if I wasn't?" he said with a smirk.

"OK, that's the alcohol talking and you were," she said dismissively.

"Maybe," he shrugged, putting both his elbows on the bar, then conceded. "Snakes would be easier to take care of."

She shook her head, a small grin on her face, then looked at him sideways.

"That's more your speed," she agreed, with a little nod. Then, she bit her lip and looked at him pensively before adding, "besides, I don't…I don't think I want to wait until I'm 40 to have a baby."

He raised his eyebrows again, giving her his full attention once again.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said, shrugging.

"Wait, are you thinking of looking for a sperm donor again?" he said, and she could hear the disapproval in his voice. She glared at him.

"Look, no Mon, it's your life," he quickly added. "If that's what you want, then, ya know, I'll support you, but I just…I don't think that's the road you need to go down…"

"It's not like I have a list of other options, Chandler," she said with another shrug, suddenly back in the insecure place he finally thought he'd dragged her out of, "unless, you know, you want to push your offer up a decade."

She smirked sadly at him and he knew she was joking, but there was something desperate in her voice that made his heart ache just a little. He sighed.

"Mon…"

"I'm kidding, don't worry," she said quietly, nudging him on the shoulder this time. "Yes, I've thought about it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do it. I'm just… I'm not in a good place right now, ya know?"

He put his arm around shoulders and gave her a hug, she laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

"I know," he whispered, placing a soft kiss on her hair. "Look, let's get you to your room. It's late and tomorrow is going to be a marathon…"

"You're right," she nodded, then she opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

"Thanks for the drinks, Crazy Snake Man."

He grinned, "Anytime, Old Spinster Cook."

She giggled and patted his chest with her hand then they stood up, slowly, and made their way out of the bar.

###

"Here's some water," he said, putting a full glass on the nightstand as Monica slid under the covers. "Try to get some sleep, OK?"

"I will," Monica said, running a hand down his cheek. Chandler caught it in his hand and brushed his lips against it.

"Sorry I was such a downer tonight," she murmured.

"Hey, don't apologize, Mon," he said, straightening up and pulling the covers around her. "We've all been there."

"Yeah," she said, as her eyes fluttered closed. Chandler swept her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. He grinned at her and shut off the light before walking towards her hotel room door.

"Chandler?" he heard her call sleepily.

"Yeah?" he said.

"You won't be single when you're 40," she said. "Some woman is gonna snatch you up and you'll have lots of snakes together."

He smirked at her through the dark, a confused look on his face and shook his head.

"Goodnight, Mon," he said as he opened the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night," she sighed. He heard her heavy sleep breathing before he even shut the door. He closed it quietly then looked at it a moment with a sad expression on his face. He shook his head, wondering how someone as wonderful as the woman sleeping on the other side could still be single.

"If there's no hope for you , Mon," he said to himself as he dove his hands into his pockets and slowly started to walk back to his room, "there's definitely no hope for me."

NOTE: Howdy.

I know I have absolutely no business starting another story with Girl Crush still hanging out there, but this is one of those ones that is coming to me in huge waves. And, well, I have to get it out. :) This was somewhat inspired by This Is Us (Oh, God, how I love that show! Waiting impatiently for S2...).

Anyway, I don't think this Mondler story has been done exactly this way before, but honestly it may have been done yesterday and I'd have no idea. There are so many stories out there I want to catch up on! So sorry I haven't.

Updates to this will be glacial, but I hope you'll enjoy it as it comes. Thanks, as always, for any and all feedback!