"I wonder what's taking them so long." The first words anyone had spoken in about forty minutes, and it was Rachel who finally broke the silence. She'd been dozing lightly in her chair, but a horn honking out in the street had woken her. She stretched languidly, propping her legs up on the coffee table. Phoebe and Ross, who had taken Monica and Chandler's places on the couch after they'd left, both opened their eyes and peered sleepily at her.

"I don't know." Phoebe yawned and adjusted the pillow beneath her head. She glanced around. "Joey's not here either?"

"I heard him leave," Ross mumbled, his eyes already closed again. "About ten minutes ago. They must be hanging out across the hall."

"I don't know, honey, Chandler seemed pretty angry," Rachel said, a tinge of worry in her voice. "I hope everything's okay. This day has always seemed to suck for him, huh?"

Phoebe tilted her head, considering. "Well, this is pretty much your fault, Rach," she said matter-of-factly.

Rachel's eyes widened. "What?!"

Phoebe shrugged mildly. "You were the one who wanted Monica to tell her story. So not only did they end up mad at each other, but you all missed out on my Christmas story."

Rachel frowned. "Well, I honestly didn't think he'd get so mad at her," she retorted. "It was ages ago, and Chandler and Monica have been tight for years. What's a little water under the bridge?"

"He's just really sensitive about Thanksgiving, Rach," Ross said, finally opening his eyes and sitting up a bit. "He hates it. After the... toe incident... he refused to celebrate Thanksgiving at all. At least until he moved here, and Monica and I forced him."

"Well, whose fault is *that*?" Rachel said tartly. "*Sir Limps-a-lot*?"

Ross cringed. "Okay, I'll admit that was pretty immature, but I was young and stupid..."

"And what's changed?" Phoebe asked. "Besides the fact that you're older."

"Hey, hey! What's with this ganging-up-on-Ross stuff? I just want to take a nap!" Defiantly, Ross wrapped his arms around a pillow and snuggled down into the cushions, eyes shut tightly.

Rachel and Phoebe looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"I guess maybe I should go over there and... smooth things over," Rachel finally said. "I mean, okay, I suppose this was sort of my fault..."

"Sort of?" Phoebe repeated.

"Hey, I'm not the one who cut off the damn toe," Rachel snapped, getting up. "And if you'll notice, he's angry with Monica the knife-wielder, NOT with me!"

"He'll probably be angry with you later," Phoebe said, putting her own feet up on the coffee table and leaning back against the cushions again. "Monica too. Especially if Chandler doesn't forgive her right away."

"Well, that's fine, because I'm not too keen on any of you right now either," Rachel muttered. She smoothed her hair and then stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

There was a long silence. Then,

"Hey Ross, you want to hear my Christmas story?"


-----


When Rachel let herself into the guys' apartment, she found Chandler and Joey reclining on their loungers and the shower running in the bathroom. She stopped short, looking around. Neither of them seemed particularly upset.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Where's Monica?"

"Shower," they answered.

"She's showering here? Why? It's six o'clock."

To her surprise, a smile crossed Chandler's face. "She just had an... accident."

"But it's all cleaned up now," Joey said quickly, glaring toward the closed bathroom door.

"What kind of accident?"

"She... spilled something on her," Chandler said vaguely. His hand waved in the direction of the kitchen, but all Rachel saw were the remains of another turkey sitting on the counter. She shook her head in frustration.

"And she couldn't shower across the hall? In her *own* apartment?"

"Hey, what's with the third degree, Rach?" Joey protested loudly. "Who cares! It's over! She's showering in there!"

Rachel looked at Chandler, who looked like he was barely containing a smirk.

"All right..." she said slowly. "Clearly something went on here that you're not telling me, and I'm not even sure I want to know what it was. I just - look, I just wanted to make sure you guys weren't fighting, okay? And I - I'm sorry I even brought up that story in the first place, Chandler."

He glanced up at her, surprised by the sincerity in her voice. "It's okay, Rach," he said. "We made up. No harm..." He glanced over at Joey, and this time she was sure he was smirking - "no *foul*."

Joey glowered at him. Rachel sighed in exasperation. If that was an inside joke, she didn't get it.

"You guys really need to get out more," she said. "Look, when Monica finishes her shower, tell her I'm going to wait fifteen minutes before getting out the leftovers and the desserts. So if she wants everything set up *just so* she has to get her ass back over there."

"Okay, Rach," Chandler said.

"Bye, Rach," Joey said pointedly.

"I need to start hanging out with different people," Rachel muttered as she started toward the door. Her eyes lit on something on the counter. "Hey, big sunglasses - cool!"