Just what was it with guys and their constant need to act like jerks? Why did he keep reverting to that behavior, and always, always in front of the others? What in the world drove him to do that, even though he had to know that it was completely unnecessary, would impress no one, and moreover would make her too feel like a total fool?

It was at those times most of all when she was fiercely glad that they had managed to keep their relationship secret so far. Just seeing Phoebe roll her eyes resignedly and then ignore him made her want to sink in the floor. No matter that he was in truth the best sex she'd ever had, and not just the best sex – the best time ever. No matter that no one before him had managed to keep her aroused and excited all the time throughout four weeks – four weeks! - AND made her feel so comfortable and cherished at the same time too. They had had so many good times together, times when she could laugh with him, be happy and carefree, and, most importantly, herself. Still she just couldn't bear it when he went on one of his whims, decided to play the clown, made a complete fool of himself – went all Chandler in fact. It just was too much. It really irked her too, not only because Phoebe and Rachel never took him seriously – never had and never would – but because by belittling himself so much, by acting the fool, how could he take himself seriously? And how could she take him seriously if he didn't? And how could she go on believing that he was serious about her and their relationship?

And she needed him to be serious about it so much. He was so good for her, had done her a world of good already. She was very close to falling in love with him – at times she suspected that she already had – and she desperately wanted him to be someone she could love without qualms, without reservations, because he was worthy of it, because he was ... perfect. But how could she love him, when she was so ashamed of the way he acted in front of her friends? It seemed like every time he had won her over completely with his sweetness, his understanding, the way he made love to her, he would make a complete turnaround and show her that all this didn't count because he would always remain a fool at heart, a jokester, a jerk who could not be taken seriously.

They would have to talk about this. While she could not imagine that he really wasn't aware of how much his ridiculous acting irritated her, she thought that maybe he just needed a little push. An eye-opener. Just something to bring him down to earth again.

And yet she didn't really want to talk about this. Not while she was still so annoyed. Why couldn't he realize it by himself? He was certainly intelligent enough for that. Why didn't he see it? Why did he let himself be carried away so easily always? And would it always be like that, would she always have to explain it to him? Event thinking about it wearied her already.

Well, time enough for that later. For now she could let it go, since he had simmered down again and also cleaned the table quite nicely, and then there was the telethon to watch. Joey was nowhere to be seen though, and soon Rachel got bored and remembered that she had to do some laundry if she wanted to have something to wear next week. Phoebe was still racking her brain for a good deed that was also unselfish. And then Ross entered to tell them about his latest talk with Emily.

"So I asked Emily if she would come to New York, and she said yes."

Oh thank god, finally some good news. They all cheered, until Ross cut them off again:

"No-no-no! Only if I promise never to see Rachel again."

Oh my god. As much as she understood Emily's take, how would that even be feasible?

"What?! You can't—what did you tell her?"

"I told her I'd have to think about it. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to make this kind of a decision? I'm actually asking you!"

Yes, how could he, and how could they advise him? It was a pretty dilemma. He could not cut Rachel out of his life any more than they could, but he also could not expect Emily to put up with her.

If only things had worked out better with those two. It had started off so great, so magically, like a fairy-tale. She had been so depressed at the time Ross and Emily met, and watching them fall in love, courting across the ocean, and yes, helping things along and encouraging Ross – maybe a little too much, she realized now rather guiltily – had brought her out of her own gloom and put her on a high again. And if it hadn't been for Ross and Emily's whirlwind courtship and the wedding in London, she would still be where she had been half a year ago, still without Chandler …

"Thanks for the help, problem solved." Ross dropped down on the couch beside her, looking as disgusted with himself as much as with them, and her heart ached for him. Just then the phone rang and it was Joey, calling from the telethon. Apparently there had been a mix-up with his agent – so what else was new? - and now he was on TV without actually being on TV. Well, he managed to let them see his hand at least – unmistakable too in the tux sleeve – until his colleague slapped him away.

"Oooh, I got an idea! Be right back!" Phoebe exclaimed suddenly and shot out of the door, without even taking her handbag. Or her coat. Chandler left too, to check on the birds, or so he said, but she knew that it was actually an invitation for her to spend some time with him. For a moment she balked at this – wouldn't it be better to let him stew for a while? – but then she decided to have it over with, rather than watching Ross still brooding and hardly taking in anything else, or the telethon with Joey still off-screen.

When she entered apartment 19 Chandler was just admonishing the birds not to watch Emeril Live on the cooking channel and it almost made her laugh. Almost. And when he smiled at her so happily, she almost relented again. Almost.

"Listen, I need that broiling pan that Joey borrowed the other day …?" She didn't really, but it was as good an excuse as any. His face fell.

"Oh that was yours? Uh, yeah, we used it when the duck was throwing up caterpillars."

Actually she had suspected as much. For what seemed like the thousandth time she vowed never to let Joey borrow anything again, for all the good it would do.

"William Sonoma, fall catalog, Page 27" she said wearily.

"Expect it in 4-6 weeks" he readily assured her. And then:

"Hey, umm, Joey's going to be at the telethon for the rest of the day, we have the whole place to ourselves."

Here we go. "Yeah, so?"

He put on that gleeful smirk again. "Well I just thought maybe you'd wanna book some time with the best you ever had ...?"

Oh god. He was still soaring high, basking in his triumph. How to get this through to him, how to make him see …?

"You know what - Champ? I think I'll pass."

His face fell and he stared at her almost comically dumbfounded. "Why?!"

No, words wouldn't do, they weren't enough. Better let him taste his own medicine. "Why?" She jumped a little forward and then started to cavort and twist in place, imitating his dance and exaggerating it some more, making it as ridiculous and idiotic as it had looked to her.

Chandler grimaced as if he had bitten on a lemon and pushed his hands into his pockets.

"What's your point?"

Had he still not gotten it? Lord have mercy on us.

"With all that stupid gloating, would you want to sleep with you?"

For a moment it seemed that he did see, but then his defiance got the better of him once more.

"Well, I think I'd be a little out of my league, but I'd give it a shot!"

She threw up her hands. "Fine. Why don't you do just that, make yourself happy. I don't have time for this." And she rushed out before he could stop her, before the sudden white-hot anger could overwhelm her. Anger at him – but also at herself.

She thought she heard him call out after her, but ignored it and strode back into her apartment. Ross was still there, staring unseeing at the TV, and just shook his head wearily when she put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. She felt at a loss what to do. The bathroom needed to be cleaned, but she wasn't in the mood for it right now. Something to cheer them all up? Hmm, maybe cookies?

By the time she got out the bowl and had all the ingredients ready, Phoebe returned, in a sour mood and with a nasty swelling on her arm from a bee-sting, the result of another failure in her mission to prove Joey wrong. Ross suddenly snapped out of his gloomy meditation and took his leave, mumbling about getting something from his apartment to help him. While she and Phoebe got the dough ready, Chandler came back in, deadpan again and seemingly unconcerned.

"Oh, what you're making, cookies?" Thankfully Phoebe already slapped his hand away from the bowl with the dough before she had to. Then he noticed the swelling on her arm.

"Hey, what'd you do there?" Phoebe grimaced.

"I let a bee sting me. I thought it would be a good deed."

"A good deed? But the bee probably –"

"Died, yeah, I know, Joey told me that already. It was a crappy idea. But you should know what that's like."

"Me? Why? Yeah, I guess you're right." That actually made her do a double take.

"What's with you? And incidentally, why are you so excited about Monica's boyfriend?"

He put on his most innocent face. "Why, because I'm happy for her. She deserves the best! Doesn't she?" When he looked at her grinning she glared at him.

"Well, yes, obviously. But it almost sounds to me as if you'd like a piece of him too." Phoebe commented drily. Chandler threw up his hands resignedly and retreated to the couch.

"That's the Sonoma on the table" she called after him and grinned as he rolled his eyes. But then he actually picked it up and settled on the couch with it. For a while there was peace, with only the half-muted sounds from The Cirque du Soleil on the TV filling the time until the telethon came on again, and she concentrated on getting the dough right, with Phoebe adding the flour.

"Um, quick broiling pan question—" Chandler quipped from the couch.

More cooking questions? She shot him a withering look.

"Yes, it really does cost that much. Maybe next time your duck can puke in something from Pottery Barn." He actually winced at that and she enjoyed her triumph. For a moment at least.

Then Ross came back in, with a Magic Eight ball of all things that he actually expected to help him solve his problem. And Phoebe even backed him up by declaring that it was definitely not a toy. What was with everybody, was she the only sane person left around here?

"Well, I don't know what else to do. I mean, I either keep my wife and lose one of my-my-my best friends or I keep my friend and get divorced the second time before I'm 30! So if anyone has a better suggestion, let's hear it! 'Cause I got nothing! All right, don't be shy, any suggestion will do."

Chandler had gotten up from the couch and approached the table, and she studiously ignored him as he stood rather close to her. He had nothing to offer to Ross's problem either. Ross glared at them and then sat down at the table, addressing the Magic Eight Ball in his hands.

"Magic Eight Ball, should I never see Rachel again?"

They all held their breaths, craning their heads as he rolled it in his hands. She sensed Chandler bending forward behind her and shot him a warning glance that made him hurriedly withdraw his already outstretched hand and put it into his pocket again. Ross squinted at the script that had turned up.

"Ask again later. Later is not good enough!" He shook the ball violently and held it up again. "Ask again later. What the hell! This is broken! It's broken!"

Suddenly she had an idea that she just couldn't resist. "All right, let me see." She took the ball from him and held it so only she could read the message.

"Will Chandler have sex tonight?" she asked it, then turned it around and pretended to read the answer. "Don't count on it." Actually it didn't say that, but the expression on his face was just priceless. And totally worth it. "Seems like it works to me!"

Ross didn't seem quite convinced, but grudgingly tried one more time.

"Should I never see Rachel again?"

Of course Rachel had to enter at the exact moment, and once again the Magic Eight Ball judgement was avoided. Ross fumbled for an excuse that involved seeing a movie that actually no one except Rachel was interested in, and then left with his Magic Eight Ball as soon as Rachel had gone into her room to put her laundry away. Chandler too went out wordlessly, without even helping himself to some cookies, and she heard him slamming the door of his apartment as he went in. It gave her a pang and put a damper on her mood again. She curled up on the easy chair with milk and cookies, and watched more TV with Phoebe, until the telethon came back on. At this Phoebe finally hit on the one unselfish good deed that had been glaringly obvious all along and called Joey's telethon number to make a pledge. Only to have her plan backfire on her when it actually helped Joey appear on TV, which made her so happy it wasn't unselfish anymore. Which proved Joey right once more. There really seemed to be no unselfish good deeds. At least not today.

Rachel came back out, all set and eager to go to the movies, but Phoebe, who had by then abandoned her scheme, only wanted to go home. Rachel went over to apartment 19 to enlist Chandler and came back with a rather puzzled expression and shrugging.

"What's with Chandler? He said he'd rather play with the duck than go to the movies?"

"Figures …" said Phoebe absentmindedly and collected her bag and coat. Monica jumped up and went into the kitchen to collect her cleaning gear.

"Mon, what about you, wanna go to the movies? Oh … um, can't you do that later? Come on, it's Stella!"

"No. Sorry, but I'm really not in the mood for it." She snapped on her rubber gloves decisively to underline that statement. Rachel started to speak, then thought better of it and shrugged. "Fine. Have fun. I'll ask Ross."

Then she was all alone again, in the bathroom, wetting the cleaning rags, and then just standing there, biting her lip and clenching her fists, torn between anger and regret.

'Go to him' the regret whispered. 'It's not that bad. So he gloated a little. It's only natural for a guy like him. He'll be normal again and then you can be together again.'

'He needs to stew some more' her anger retorted. 'Otherwise he'll never learn. He'll get even worse.'

She violently rammed the toilet brush into the bowl as if she wanted to bore a new hole.

'But do you really want to give it all up just because he went all Chandler again? It's what he is. He can't help it. You have to accept it.'

'Maybe. But not now. It's too early. Later. After –'

Yeah, after she finished cleaning the bathroom. And got a grip on herself again.

.

As always the cleaning helped. By the time she had finished scrubbing the tub and polishing the tiles, she felt ready to face him again. Even if he still should be in gloating mode. By now she didn't care anymore.

But there was no need. Just as she left the bathroom to put her cleaning kit away again, Chandler came rushing in, panting as if he'd run a race. They faced each other in the kitchen and she had to struggle to keep her face expressionless at his anxious demeanor.

"Look, maybe I got carried away before. But there's something you gotta know. If I'm the best, it's only because you've made me the best."

She hadn't quite expected that.

"Keep talking ..."

Chandler spread his arms wide. "I mean I was nothing before you. Call the other girls and ask. Which wouldn't take long!"

She had a hard time not laughing at this, at his comical self-deprecation, and felt amazed once more by how easy it was for him to make her laugh. And be touched by his open candidness. When he came closer to her, still panting, eyes blazing, her breath caught a little.

"But when I'm with you - and we're together - OH…MY…GOD."

So it was indeed, with the earth moving and the angels singing, always, every blessed single time. For her. And for him too, how could she not have realized that before?

"Really?"

"OH - OH my God!"

That was what she had wanted, needed to hear. He hadn't lost his head and boasted about being the best of all, he was just happy – wildly, exhilaratingly, fantastically happy – about being the best for her. With her.

"Now, I understand if you never want to sleep with me again, but that would be wrong. We're too good!"

Yeah, it would be a real pity to give all that up. And just for pride's sake? And the opinion of her friends who didn't even know? Where was the sense in that?

"We owe it, to SEX!"

Now there was a concept she could relate to. Yes, there was so much they could still achieve, so much left to explore, and no time to lose any more. She put her cleaning box down and held out her arms.

"Well, if we owe it?" And she gasped when he somehow anticipated her and swept her up in his arms, exactly like she had wanted him to without realizing it. She loved being carried, swept off her feet and held tight, like a baby, like a treasure that was borne away … She held on to his shoulders, laughing and gasping.

"Oh my … When is Joey going to be home?"

"Well, I was kinda hoping we could do this without him" he said drily as he carried her to the door. And of course he was right. Time enough to worry about Joey later.

When she peeled off her gloves, he stopped her, waggling his brows suggestively. "Oh-no-no, leave the gloves on!"

Not a bad idea, if it weren't for -"But, I just cleaned the bathroom ..."

"Yeah, why don't we lose the gloves" he conceded and she threw them over his shoulder in the direction of the table. He stopped before the door and bent forward to open it, shifting her a little.

"All right, let's show them how it's done." Only to bump her head against the door at his next step.

"Ouch!"

"You know that wasn't part of it?" he asked worriedly.

"I know!" And she couldn't let it matter, not now. He proceeded into the hall and managed to open his door and carry her through without any more problems. They kissed in the kitchen and again in the living room, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders and closed her eyes, waiting for him to reach his bedroom and lay her down on his bed, and then himself on top of her …

But then he stopped just as he'd opened his bedroom door and when she opened her eyes, he was biting his lip, staring into the room. She turned her head and then groaned.

The chick was sitting on his pillow, busily pecking and scratching it to tatters. A good part of the feathers were already spread all over the bed and the carpet before it. But that was not the worst of it. The duck was standing on the middle of the bed, wings spread wide and the long neck stretched out before him, while he heaved and gurgled and heaved again … and then threw up before their eyes. Chandler gasped and involuntarily took a step back, banging her feet on the door post this time.

"Ooops – sorry. Um. Well, I guess the bed is out."

"Looks like it" she agreed bleakly.

"God, I'm an idiot, I should have shut the door …"

"What about my place then? And you can let me down now, before you rupture your back."

"Nope, I can handle it." And he did, carrying her bravely back to the kitchen and out into the hall, puffing just a little. Just before her door however he paused and his face took on a dreamy expression.

"What?"

"Just thinking – we should make this one special. Because you know. So how about the closet?"

"The closet? At the Perk? Now?"

"Why not?"

Why not indeed.

.

Ten minutes later she stood before the closet waiting for Chandler's signal. He had gone in first and she took a last look around the cafe to check that nobody paid them any attention. They were in luck, Saturday late afternoons were always slow in the Perk and there were hardly half a dozen guests around. The one guy at a table near the closet seemed to be totally engrossed in a magazine, never noticing her. Then Chandler opened the door a crack and she slipped in sideways, pushing the door shut again. There was no key, but Chandler had got a heavy box from somewhere that he now pushed in front of it. It was better than nothing.

The closet was rather small to begin with, 5 by 9 feet, and crammed to the ceiling with shelves on both sides. A little to the right of the door high up on the opposite wall was a small window and the wall under it seemed to be the only space free of shelves in the whole room. That was all she noticed before Chandler drew her to him and pressed against her. They kissed long and deeply, taking their time and she wrapped her arms around his waist, bunching up his shirt and t-shirt and molding her body against his. She hardly noticed when he steered her in the direction of the window and gently pressed her against the wall under it. Then his hands went under her sweater and straight up her back to her bra, opening it on the first try. She gasped into their kiss when he cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs across both nipples at the same time, and tore his t-shirt out of his pants to slide her hands up his back and chest. Then he bent his knees and went down on her, pushing her sweater up and kissing her on the belly and navel, while he teased the button of her pants open and let the zipper slide down. She pressed his head against her belly and dug her fingers in his hair as she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her pants, trembling in anticipation when he urgently tugged her panties over her buttocks and thighs and pressed his mouth against her mount. For a minute they remained like that, rhythmically pushing and rocking, until she couldn't bear it anymore and urged him up again. As soon as he was standing up again she tore at his pants and boxers and grabbed his penis as it came free. Panting he hooked her legs over his elbows, entwining his fingers under her buttocks to support her as he lifted her up and held her against the wall. After some more shifting and adjustments to get the angle right, she guided and he pushed himself in, slowly and gently at first, and then harder and harder, until it seemed to her that he was trying to hammer her into the wall. He slowed a little again when her mouth found his again and they settled into a more languid rhythm. Their tongues met and pushed against each other and then she opened her eyes again and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall and the door where a bit of light came through the cracks, marveling at herself and the wonderful craziness of it all.

It really was the best ever.

.

.

A/N: Don't worry, I know very well that they went for it in the closet twice and I don't intend to skip the second time either. It just seemed a good idea to have that one in Chandler's POV, so you'll have to wait for it in the next chapter, I'm afraid.