:This fanfic was begging to be written, and I think it sums up the friendship of Rachel and Chandler. Please review!:

The Handcuffed Neurotic

"That dinner was great Monica," Rachel muttered, her voice thick from drowsiness and a full stomach. She curled up tighter in the chair of the apartment.

Ross and Joey, from their sitting positions on the couch, nodded in agreement. Phoebe gave a half hearted thumbs up from her place on the floor.

"I have to say – and I never thought I would – I'm actually full." Joey added, grinning at ease.

"Miracles do happen," Ross said, wide-eyed.

"Too bad Chandler didn't get back from work in time," Monica said, picking up the plates and taking them to the kitchen sink.

"Yeah, where is he?" Ross asked, "It's 9pm! I thought he gave up that whole 'staying until midnight' thing because he didn't like what it turned him into."

"Oh…my…god," Rachel muttered, sitting up. She put her hands to her mouth, "surely not…"

"What?" Joey asked, frowning.

Before Rachel could say another word, the apartment door opened and Chandler walked in, his deep-blue shirt half hanging out of his pants and the sleeves rolled up halfway up his arms. His hair stood up in weird angles on his head, the darker of his blonde highlights visible to the roots of his scalp. Using a quick flick of the wrist, he slammed the door shut behind him and then put his hands to his hips. His face wore an expression of absolute fury and his piercing blue eyes immediately rested on Rachel.

"Five…hours," he uttered, the words coming out clear, slow and deliberate.

Rachel stood up and walked over to him, her hands still clamped over her mouth. "Chandler, I am so…so sorry!" she mumbled through her fingers.

"Five hours," Chandler repeated, glaring at her, "do you realise how long that is?"

"Chandler…"

"Milton Burle! Give me a break!" Chandler yelled, pacing around the apartment. He circled around the couch, ignoring the confused glances he was getting from Ross, Joey, Monica and Phoebe. "I can't believe I fell for that one! The only kind of impression I'm giving out is the need to want to throttle you Rachel!"

Finally lowering her hands from her face, Rachel gazed shamefacedly at Chandler. "You really didn't stay in that chair for five hours did you?" she whispered, awestruck.

"Well let's see, after your promises of attention from women forever, you went home with Sophie. Meanwhile, I was imprisoned in a chair with my pants off looking like a male slut. Not one phone call did I receive from then on. You do the math!"

Chandler's angry glare never left Rachel until he heard a suspicious sounding snort coming from the couch. His eyes rested on Joey, whose head was peeking over the couch, the unmistakable sign of a smirk spreading over his face. Ross, in exactly the same position, had his fist in his mouth. He was beyond the point of just smirking.

Chandler didn't even want to look at Monica and Phoebe.

 He turned back to Rachel and glared at her again, before continuing to pace around the room in his manic state of furore. "What kind of woman leaves a guy handcuffed to a chair for crying out loud?" he ranted on, now oblivious to his giggling friends, "A couple of hours she says! I think we should change that to a couple of hours after Armageddon! What a psycho!"

"I think that's the kettle calling you black!" Rachel shot back at him, her arms folded.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you were a psycho for getting yourself into that kind of situation in the first place!" Rachel pointed out, "One minute you're breaking up with her, the next, something in that teeny tiny organ you call a brain goes off and the neuroses come out!"

"I am not a neurotic!"

"Oh you so are, I think being left handcuffed to a chair by my boss is a perfect example!"

"You were handcuffed?" Joey guffawed, punching a fist into the couch with mirth.

"Please tell me your boss is a woman Rachel!" Monica jumped in, giggling.

"Oh-oh I am so glad you find this amusing!" Chandler told them, in a singsong mocking voice, "there is nothing better to do than to spend an afternoon and evening tied to a chair waiting for the sex-obsessed maniac to come back!"

"I know there isn't," Joey said, grinning.

"And you can shut up," Chandler told him, "I'm sure you wouldn't like the part where the cleaning lady turns up hours later, thinks you are a terrorist and alerts the security guards on the bottom floor!"

"Oh my god, Vera saw you?" Rachel gasped out, finally cracking up into laughter, "that woman is crazy! She thinks Bloomingdales is haunted and that thieves can just materialise when she's there!"

"So that'll be why she hit me around the head with her mop!" Chandler said, pointing madly at his sticking up hair. "I swear, Jack Nicholson crashing through a door was less scary than she was!"

"Oh-no-no," Joey interrupted, his hand raised to stop Chandler in mid-flow, "nothing is scarier than 'The Shining' nothing. Why do you think the book's been in the freezer again for the last three months?"

"Ewww, three months?" Chandler asked, disgusted, "it will be moist, dewy and-and…slimy, that's just…gross."

"Don't worry I iron it out to dry it," Joey assured him, giving the thumbs up.

"The same iron I use on my shirts?!"

"Um…no…" Joey said, wide-eyed, "Of-of course not, that is a totally different iron."

"Joe, we only have one."

"Hey what are you yelling at me for? I didn't handcuff you to the chair, blame Rachel, she set the two of you up last year!"

"That was before he called her a big dull dud!" Rachel retorted, "How was I supposed to know that Chandler just can't say 'no'?"

"Well, dull is really the nearest I could describe Joanne at this very moment," Chandler said with heavy sarcasm, "Dull women obviously make a habit of acting like a complete nutcase. You know when she came back I was having an argument with security? She denied all knowledge of knowing me! I walked out of that building leaving behind a bunch of people who think I'm a stalker!"

"Chandler, I really had no idea Joanne would be that long and would react that way," Rachel said sincerely, "I am really sorry."

"Yeah well, tonight is just the story of my life," Chandler said, sighing deeply. He turned briefly to Joey, "Do me one small favour please?" he asked.

"Sure, what is it?" Joey asked.

"Never, and I mean never repeat this story in any future celebrity chat shows, biographies, autobiographies, parties or any 'hi-I'm-famous' gigs, got it?" Chandler glared meaningfully at him.

"Sure, whatever,"

"If you do I'll sue."

"Sure…sure. These lips are sealed," Joey assured him, "for now," he added under his breath.

"Shame you and Joanne aren't getting married," Ross commented, "that would be one hell of a best man's speech for me to announce."

"Well, unfortunately for you, and luckily for me, we're not getting married." Chandler told him, walking to the door, "I don't think I'm going to get married at all, come to think of it."

"Never?" Monica asked incredulously, "Not even when you're in love?"

"Great choice out there, there really is," Chandler said wryly, opening the door, "looks like I'm going to be dying an old maid with you Mon."

"Oh thanks."

"No problem," Chandler told her, a hint of a grin appearing on his face. He turned to Rachel, "and as for you…"

"Yes?" Rachel asked nervously.

"I'm not buying you a new walkman."

"Um…right…"

"And I want that freshly squeezed orange juice you promised me,"

"Um, ok, I guess it's the least I can do…"

"And all my photos in photo albums…"

Rachel narrowed her eyes slightly, "Ok…"

"And one more thing…"

"Oh god, please don't say it," Rachel moaned, burying her head into her hands.

"I want the bathroom cleaned everyday for a month, starting tomorrow."

"Ohhh that's harsh," Joey jumped in, grimacing, "I just blocked the toilet a couple of hours ago."

"See you tomorrow children," Chandler said, walking out into the hallway and slamming it shut.

"Wow, was anyone totally turned on by that little performance?" Phoebe asked after a moment's silence.

The End

: yeah so it was a little pointless, but it was begging to be written!: