They all laughed at Wilbur and his brother
When they said that man could fly

That night after lights up, Chandler hovered in the far corner of the club by the stage. Across the smoky room Monica was sat at the bar with an unhappy looking brother, as her unhappy looking roommate cleaned up around them. He wished he could go see her, to talk to her like he'd hoped but with both Ross and Rachel there he knew he wouldn't get to have any kind of quality time with her. Neither seemed his biggest fan just yet. He watched as she rolled her eyes dramatically, shaking her head, her arms moving animatedly. She had so much passion, a fire inside of her which drew him to her even more.

No doubt they had carried on their argument from before. He would love to go over there and offer some words of support to her but he couldn't. Ross was right, Monica was far too good to be a in a place like this. Sure, there were a lot seedier places, the street was starting to become lined with them. Their club was a lot classier and all the girls wore clothes…but still, she belonged on the big stage.

"You alright?" Joey jr asked, appearing out of nowhere to stand next to him.

"Yeah," he sighed, his eyes still on the woman that had stolen his heart, "just thinking."

"Right," the man beside him snorted as he noticed where his gaze was, "I can just imagine those thoughts. Shouldn't you wait until you're alone tonight?" He then started to make the noise of bed springs squeaking and Chandler narrowed his eyes at him.

"Nothing like that," he protested in vain and Joey just shrugged easily; not arguing but also not agreeing.

"Who's the guy? I haven't seen him here before."

"Her brother," Chandler informed him quickly, too quickly and Joey raised his eyebrows.

"How do you know so much about her? Are you stalking the dame? You can go to prison for that ya know."

Chandler rolled his eyes, "I met him earlier," he informed his roommate. "He's not exactly the biggest supporter of this place though."

"Hey, it's a classy establish," Joey replied, scarily sounding a lot like his dad, "she could do a lot worse than here. Besides, two of my sisters work here."

"True, but everyone knows if they so much as wolf-whistle they'll be leaving on a stretcher."

"We aren't that protective," Joey protested and Chandler mimicked his friend's earlier action by shrugging easily; not arguing but also not agreeing.

"Are you staying late tonight?" Chandler asked.

"Yeah," Joey nodded, "Crazy Eddie is down for a craps game. Wanna join?"

"God no," he shook his head fiercely. "He's scary as."

"Just because his father was in the mob doesn't mean he is," Joey pointed out.

"Yes, not like either of us followed in our fathers' footsteps…oh wait, no we both did…"

"Alright, alright," he shook his head, clapping him on the back, "you sure you don't wanna play?"

"He's known as 'Crazy' Eddie for a reason," he pointed out, "rumor has it he ate a live goldfish straight from its bowl, so, no, I'm good."

"Fine," Joey shook his head, "I'll see you back home."

"Ok," Chandler nodded, "see ya later."

His eyes followed him across the club to the office before falling back on Monica. They were clearly still fighting so he decided it was best to admit defeat and leave for the night. Reluctantly he took in his fill of her, before sighing and heading for the door.

Another round of applause filled the club and Chandler half-listened to Doug as he announced a small intermission.

"Hey Chandler," Mike called from the piano. "I was going to do a bit of bebop for the break, wanna stay and join?"

"You know my weakness," Chandler half-joked; he would normally jump at the chance, "but I can't, the old gal is thirsty and needs a drink."

Mike rolled his eyes, "Your loss."

"It's weird you refer to your trumpet as a 'she'," Phoebe commented, well-used to her friend's quirks. "Why's she so thirsty anyhow?"

"I may have been in too much of a rush earlier," Chandler admitted with a slight blush, "I'll grab some valve oil now and she'll be fine."

"Do you have to bring that stinky stuff out here," she complained and Chandler rolled his eyes. String people; they didn't appreciate the finer points of brass.

Mike started up and Chandler glared at him as A Night In Tunisia started to play out across the brownstone; he knew that was one his many favorites.

"If you hurry, you might catch the end," Mike called and Chandler scrambled out of his seat and high-tailed it out the back.

He lived for jazz. He breathed it. And he hated missing the rare opportunity to actually play it at the club. He could still hear the piano and started whistling and tapping his fingers to the beat as he jogged down the corridor. There was the usual loud chatter and manic buzz coming from the main dressing rooms but the band room didn't even have the light on.

Flipping the switch he made a bee-line for his trumpet case and grabbed the small clear bottle of oil, needed to keep the trumpet valves moving fast and lucid under his musical fingers. He tucked it into his jacket pocket and closed the door.

As he approached the main corridor Monica hurriedly walked passed, unaware of his presence in the smaller dark corridor. He blinked in surprise. Why would she be heading left? Nothing was in that direction apart from some storage closets. He carefully crept to the very edge of the small junction, where the corridors joined and peered around it just in time to see Monica looking over her shoulder before quietly slipping into one of the storage rooms.

Chandler frowned, now very confused. What was she doing? Why would she go in there? Was she lost? In trouble? He quickly stepped into the main corridor and approached the store room. Copying Monica's actions, he glanced over his shoulder, ensuring the coast was clear before curiously turning the handle and gently pushing open the door.

He froze.

She froze. A deer in headlights. A thief in headlights.

She was stealing; hastily stuffing snack food into her handbag from the hole she'd ripped into the large cardboard box on the floor.

He blinked, trying to process the scene in front of him as the door closed loudly behind him. Jolting him into action.

"What the heck are you doing?" he hissed, his heart dropping as he tried to comprehend what he was witnessing.

"I'm so sorry, really sorry," her eyes widened in fear at being caught. "Please don't report me, Chandler. Please, I need this job."

"Then why are you stealing?" he asked, his voice taking on a hard edge, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. The Tribbiani's were like family to him and he didn't like anyone taking advantage of them, not even her.

"I didn't want to," her eyes shined with tears and she looked away embarrassed, "I-I didn't have a choice," she said softly, her voice cracking.

"What do you mean?" he asked warily, a frown still furrowing his brow as he prayed she had a damn good reason, not wanting to believe anything else.

"Rent came before my pay cheque," she said quietly, blushing under her make-up. "So there's no food in the apartment. I'm really hungry and I would ignore it, I would, but I need to have something. I get such an adrenaline rush going on stage and performing. I tried to push it down earlier when I went on but I got a little dizzy. I can't risk doing the next set like this; if I collapse or get sick I won't get paid. I saw Gunther bringing the stock in earlier in the week so knew there would be something here so I thought maybe…but I'll put them back...please just don't tell, I need this job."

Her eyes met his, filled with worry and his slowly filled with compassion. He understood, times were tough. Sure the great depression had long passed and a majority of Americans were better off and had money to spare; just look at half the punters that came in here each night with their pockets overloaded. But for a young gal that had been cut off by her parents and supporting herself? It had to be tough.

"I believe you," he said softly, "and I won't tell anyone, I promise."

She let out a large shaky breath of relief, her hands reaching out to grab his arm.

"Thank you Chandler, thank you so much."

"It's ok," he promised gently, "but if you had been caught in here by anyone else they would've thrown you out into the dumpster quicker than yesterday's leftovers."

She nodded quickly, "I know, thank you."

Sadly her hand released his arm as she started to empty her purse back into the large cardboard box before she tried to push it back to on the shelf.

It was high so Chandler stepped up behind her, "Let me help with that."

"Thank you."

Their bodies were so close to one another; he was well and truly in her personal space, so much so that he could smell her hair as it brushed against his chin. It was as soft as it looked and smelled like apples. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself as his body tingled.

Then he heard it.

The door.

The door was opening. Crap. Having grown up here he knew what he had to do to provide an easy cover. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to warn Monica…or consider the consequences as he grabbed her waist, spinning her around roughly and pushed her back against the hard shelves. His hands then clamped either side of her face, managing to mutter a quick "sorry" as he moulded his body to hers and crashed his lips down onto her unsuspecting ones.

It was meant to be a simple ruse; a couple making out in a closet was easy to explain. But as soon as his lips touched hers, all thoughts of cover stories and being caught left his mind. He instantly felt a spark as their lips fused together, sending a bolt of electricity through him down to his toes. She felt amazing. He pressed his lips harder, more insistently, desperate to taste and experience more of this incredible woman. He deepened the kiss, thrilled when she responded, feeling her hands roam his back. God he'd never felt like this before. He felt so alive, so…

"Hey! Lovebirds, this aint that kinda club."

Chandler jerked away still stunned and shocked by what he'd felt. He blinked stupidly a few times coming back to reality as her face came into focus, she looked just as stunned.

"Hey!"

Oh right. Collecting himself Chandler swallowed, turning to face the man who'd walked in on them and silently groaned. Of all the people.

"Sorry Frank," he muttered a quick apology to Phoebe's brother. "It won't happen again."

Sure that his face was bright red, he shot a quick glance at Monica. She looked beautiful, her cheeks flushed and lips thoroughly kissed. Had she felt it too or was it all just part of the act for her? Coughing, he caught her eye and gestured they should leave. Quickly. She nodded, understanding and promptly made her way to the exit; Chandler close behind.

"Hey Bing," Frank called as he passed him, "good work, she's a hottie."

He winced as the man slapped him hard on the back in congratulations, "T-thanks."

Biting his lips he joined Monica who was waiting just outside the door. They said nothing until the storeroom door closed as they were a few steps away.

"I'm sorry," he apologized hurriedly, "it's the only cover that came into my head at short notice and-"

"Are you kidding?" She smiled a shyly, "You don't need to apologize, I should be thanking you. You covered for me and risked getting yourself into trouble. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that. Thank you, really."

The things he did for love.

"You're welcome," he promised, wetting his lips somewhat embarrassed that he could still taste her and the affect it was having on him. "Um, look if you're hungry, let me show you the best place to raid in this joint." She raised an eyebrow at him and he just chuckled, tilting his head,"Come on."

He led her into the small dark corridor and into the trusty old band room, which was luckily still empty. She looked around confused, taking in the various instrument cases, piles of music, badly stacked records and the mismatched tatty chairs.

"I didn't even know this place existed," she admitted, taking it all in, "I like it, it has a lot more character than the dressing rooms. They're just faded white with mirrors, bright lights and make up everywhere."

"This is where us 'weird' band people hang out," he smiled, chuffed that she liked it, "and this," he walked over to the small chest of drawers, pulling out the bottom drawer with flair, "is why I brought you here."

Her eyes widened in delight at the amount of snacks and junk food that was stuffed into that one magical drawer.

"Wow," she looked more than a little impressed, trying not to drool. It had everything.

"We do weird hours and practically live in here," he gestured around the windowless room, "sometimes you need a little food to keep you going."

"A little?" she teased.

"We are a hungry people," he joked, "dig in, help yourself."

"You're sure?" Monica frowned, "Won't the others mind?"

"Nah, don't worry about it," he shrugged casually, "I can handle them- I'm kidding!" he chuckled at her look, "We all top it up so there's always plenty in there plus Joey's always helping himself. Seriously, it's fine, what do you like?"

Monica looked closer, "You have taffy?" she asked excitedly reaching in and taking one. "Thank you!"

"Take more than that," he argued, "you didn't get dinner. Take. Eat. Perform."

She flushed slightly, taking a few more candies. Once she was done he kicked the drawer shut and glanced at his watch. Gee.

"I really need to get back out there," he sighed, he really didn't want to when the alternative was staying here with her.

"Of course," she nodded.

"You can stay here if you want?" he offered, "Finish the loot…just hide the wrappers."

"Ok," she smiled and he found himself lost in those stunning blue eyes again. Without permission his own eyes drifted onto her perfect lips and he remembered just how soft they were. His breath hitched as he stared at her and she seemed to stare right back. Was she hoping for a repeat performance as badly as he was? A sudden crash from the corridor outside broke them from the spell and whatever moment they were sharing.

"I-uh," he swallowed, running a hand through his hair, "I'll see ya later. Knock em dead."

"Chandler," her voice was soft as her hand reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him from passing. He met her eyes once more, swallowing hard as they studied each other intently. "Thanks again, for everything, I really appreciate it."

"You're more than welcome, Monica," he promised softly, before slowly, reluctantly, leaving her grasp and hurrying back to the stage.

His mind was still racing, his body still tingling as he slid back onto the hard chair.

"We were about to send out a search party," Mike grouched and Chandler winced, "you missed the bebop session."

"Sorry," he grimaced, "I, uh, got caught up with something."

"You mean someone," Phoebe joked. "I heard you got caught making-out in the storage room."

"Wh-? How?"

"News travels fast," she smirked. It did. In this place at least. Typical. "How was it?"

"It wasn't like that," he protested but Phoebe just raised an eyebrow unconvinced.

"Whatever you say, Bing," she said lightly, "we'll talk later, now shut up and play your trumpet."

Knowing it was useless to argue with her he did as he was told. He tried to keep his mind on the task at hand but it kept jumping back to Monica.

Monica.

That kiss had be frigging amazing, better than he'd imagined…and he'd imagined plenty.

How was he meant to forget her now? Now that he'd experienced kissing her; now that he had tasted her and felt her body against his. Boy, if he'd thought he was in trouble before, it was nothing compared to now...

The next afternoon Chandler found himself in the Central, a smoke in his mouth and a beer glass in his hand. His eyes followed the dart that flew from Joey's hand, watching as it made its short journey to the speckled dart board.

"Not bad," he praised as he jotted down the score with a worn piece of chalk.

Chandler placed down his glass and pulled out the darts, taking his position.

"Hey guys."

He glanced over and nodded his greeting to Phoebe and Mike as they settled at the small round table. Chandler threw the first dart, wincing as it missed its intended target. Damn. He quickly threw the next, pleased that it vaguely landed in a reasonable spot.

"So, Chandler," Phoebe called, "Where's your girlfriend?"

He paused, glaring at his friend and clenching his jaw slightly, "I don't have a girlfriend," he informed her.

"So you just make out with anyone in the storeroom?" Mike asked lightly.

His glare moved from Phoebe onto her husband.

"What are you guys talking about?" Joey asked looking mightily confused. "Who's making out in storerooms?"

"Ask Chandler," Phoebe laughed.

"Don't ask Chandler," he shot back.

"Seriously, what have I missed?" Joey questioned, his eyes falling to each of his friends. "Someone tell me!"

"It's nothing," he muttered, his blunt fingers idly flicking the plastic flight of his last dart. "Now can we just finish this game please?"

"Chandler got caught making-out with Monica in the storage closet at the club," Phoebe exploded excitably.

Chandler sighed heavily, rolling his eyes as Joey turned to him incredulously.

"How could you not tell me?"

"Because I'm not telling people," he said flatly, "Gossipers are telling people," he shot a pointed look to the couple at the table. "Now can I throw this dart?"

"You kissed her?" Joey asked still incredulous, ignoring his request. "When did this happen?"

"Ask Phoebe," he shot back, standing back into position, dart posed ready.

"Last night," Phoebe answered happily. "Chandler went to get some valve oil and next thing we know Frank's walking in on a pretty heavy make-out session. I heard his shirt was off and her-"

"Hey!" Chandler protested, spinning around causing them to duck in fear where he still held the posed arrow. "We were fully clothed."

"So it's true!" Joey acclaimed, "how many times have you kissed her? Why the hell didn't you tell me this? Are you together now?"

"Look," Chandler sighed, trying to find the right words. He couldn't tell them the truth and risk her getting fired but he didn't want them to think she'd voluntarily kissed him either. "It wasn't like that," he confessed quietly, "she got a little lost and was a little upset and we both moved at the same time and I kissed her. It didn't mean anything, especially not to her."

"Well, it must have meant something to you," Joey argued, "I've known you my whole life and you Chandler Bing do not go around kissing random dames. Plus, the fact you've been obsessed with the doll since day one."

Chandler sighed, wishing he could get them to understand.

"It was just a spur of the moment kind of thing and she didn't even want me to kiss her. She doesn't like me like that so can we change the subject now?"

"Rubbish!" Phoebe protested ignoring his plea, he wasn't surprised, "She likes you, it's so obvious."

He scoffed, "Not likely, Phoebs."

"I'm telling you, I can tell these things and as the only girl in your friend group, you have to trust me. She likes you."

Chandler shook his head in denial. They were so wrong. Just because he still got goosebumps when he thought about that kiss, didn't mean she felt it too…or wanted to feel it again.

"Why don't you ask her out?" Joey suggested.

"Because I'm Chandler Bing," he mimicked, "I don't go around asking out random dames."

"Well, maybe you should," his roommate shrugged, "just ask her out. Come on, what's the worst that could happen?"

Chandler raised an exaggerated eyebrow, "How many examples do you want?"

"How many do you have?" Mike asked surprised.

"Oh plenty," he informed him. "Enough to know it's a stupid idea."

"Ask her out," Phoebe repeated. "She'll say yes."

"She won't," Chandler insisted, "and I'm not asking her out, so can we please just drop this now? It's yesterday's news."

He took a swig of his drink before lining up in front of the dart board. He wasn't going to ask her out. Couldn't.

"Face it guys," he said quietly, not looking at them, his vision staring ahead at the dart board, "a dame like that isn't gonna look twice at a guy like me. I have as much chance at beating Joey at this game as I do Monica agreeing to go out with me."

With that he reluctantly threw the final dart, no longer in the mood for this contest or conversation. He blinked in surprise as it sliced through the air and hit the bullseye.

Huh.

A/N- thanks so much for the reviews- they are always very much appreciated and you're all just awesome :o)