A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! They keep me going.
This chapter is rated M. Lyrics from All That by Carly Rae Jepsen.
When you need me, I will never let you come apart.
When you need me, I will be your candle in the dark.
When you need someone, oh, let me be the one,
the only one.
The work week dragged, and he had to spend the day on Saturday baking an elaborate layered cake to stay occupied. He left it behind, since his apartment would be hosting the next movie night while he and Rachel alone would be at Tex's. Everyone seemed to know something he didn't; when he walked out of his bedroom after showering, shaving, and dressing in slacks and a dress shirt, Ashley ran up to give him a hug.
"You look great, Dad."
"Yeah, Mr. Chandler," Kathleen chipped in from the couch, making the OK hand sign. "Looking really sharp."
Tex intercepted him on his way to the door, holding him by the arms. "You're gonna do great, man. Just be natural."
"You all are freaking me out," Chandler said loudly, turning to send a glare to the entirety of the room.
It all just made him more apprehensive, expecting something but with no idea what, yet none of that prepared him for what he saw when he let himself into Tex's apartment and walked into the kitchen.
He stopped in the doorway, the hand that was holding a bouquet of flowers falling to his side, as he was confronted by the sight of Rachel bent over at the stove, checking something inside, dressed in a form-fitting dress and heels. She turned and stood as soon as she realized he was there, but he was frozen on the picture of her bare legs, accentuated by the heels, leading up to the curve of the dress over her backside.
She was coming toward him, a big smile on her face, and he thrust the flowers out in front of him to stave off any attempt at a hug. The flowers distracted her, thankfully, and she set about finding a vase for them.
"Can I do anything?" he asked, and she waved him off.
"Have a seat," she said, indicating the kitchen table, still focused on the flowers. "Everything is mostly ready."
He was grateful to sit down and pull his chair up close to the table, just in case, but then he had to watch her walking around the kitchen in those damn heels and that dress, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders and her makeup delicately applied. The only time she was close enough to touch was when she leaned over to put the vase in the centre of the table, and he had to practically sit on his hands to keep from reaching out.
He couldn't decide between closing his eyes against the torture and watching every second of it because she looked so damn delicious, and he finally put his hands over his face, leaning on the table. "Why are you wearing heels in the kitchen?" he asked, muffled by his hands.
She was hesitant in her reply. "Well, we aren't going out, and the rest of the apartment is carpeted. Do you want me to take them off?"
"No!" he said too loudly. He rubbed his eyes and stared down at the table. "I'm just hungry," he said weakly.
She brought dinner to the table and sat down, smiling at him, and while it certainly helped to have half of her tucked away under the table, she was still almost too beautiful to look at directly. They both started eating, though Chandler had to keep taking gulps of water to battle the dryness of his mouth, and he gave his compliments to the chef.
"Thank you," she said. "I do have something to tell you." He raised his eyebrows, and she went on with a little rush of excitement, "I'm starting work on Monday."
He eyed her; her arm was still in a sling, but she was strong, almost completely recovered. "That's great," he said, smiling back, wondering, Is that why you brought me here? "What are you going to be doing?"
They chatted on over dinner, and then Chandler offered to clean up, but she refused him. Maybe she wanted to prove her recovery, her resilience, but all Chandler knew was as she moved about the room and washed dishes at the sink, he couldn't do anything but stare. She wiped down the table and counters before dropping the cloth in the sink and washing her hands.
She put the kettle on and walked back over to the table, hoisting herself up to sit on its edge as she waited for the kettle. She crossed her legs, her foot bouncing slightly with impatience, and Chandler was out of will power. Getting up from his chair, he walked around to stand in front of her.
"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look?" he asked, and she blinked up at him, shaking her head as she uncrossed her legs, the combination of innocence and knowing unbelievably sexy.
He stepped into the opened space and reached for her waist, saying, "May I?" and waiting for her nod before he pulled her forward, right to the edge of the table. He kept one hand on her waist as he pushed her skirt up with the other, and then he pulled her the rest of the way, until their hips met and she exhaled sharply, her legs wrapping around behind him as he bowed his head forward, his hands smoothing over her backside as he held her tight against him. She toed off her heels, letting them drop to the kitchen floor, and he was almost embarrassed when that alone brought a moan out of him.
He leaned his shoulders back and brought one hand up to her face, holding her gaze for a moment as he searched out and found the same heat, the same intensity that he was feeling, and then he kissed her.
After all the time between them, their first kiss and then that split-second taste of her he'd had two weeks ago, kissing her properly now was overwhelming, a rush that swept over his head and chest and groin all at once, and for a while he couldn't do anything but savour it.
The click from the kettle was loud in the quiet kitchen, startling him just slightly, and Tom silently thanked the gods of kitchen appliances that she didn't have a whistling kettle, because he didn't think they'd be fetching it just yet.
With her arm wrapped tightly around his neck, Rachel pulled herself up and then ground down on him again, and he broke the kiss with a gasp.
"Are you," he said breathlessly, "are you sure you're ready?"
She just looked at him, her lips parted, and nodded, before her eyes dropped back to his mouth.
"Bed?" he said then, and she nodded again, kissing him hard before she tightened her grip on his neck and pressed her face against it so that he could navigate them to her bedroom. He lowered her onto the bed, then stood up, even as she let her hand trail across his shoulder and down his arm, catching his hand before he could go any further. He said, "Um," at a complete loss of how to ask, and she dropped his hand, pointing down the hall.
"Try Tex's nightstand," she said, and he raised his eyebrows at her.
"Has he…?"
She smirked, rolling her eyes. "Let's just say he's fed by boundless optimism."
"That sounds like Tex."
He returned in a matter of seconds, but found Rachel had pulled her skirt back down and tsked disapprovingly.
"It's cold in here," was her mild defense, as he set about pushing her skirt up to her waist and hooking his fingers around the edges of her panties.
He looked up then, cocking an eyebrow, and said, "Should I go adjust the thermostat, or…?"
She pursed her lips against a grin, shaking her head, and he slid her panties off and dropped them on the floor. He slipped his hands under her thighs and then around her hips and up over her pelvic bones, his hands spanning the lowest part of her belly as he looked up one more time from between her legs. She had her eyes squeezed shut already, her good hand clutching at the blanket, and he kept his eyes open as he tasted her for the first time, watching her eyes spring open with a gasp.
Then he closed his eyes and focused his tongue, working it until she was trembling under his hands, until she broke and shook with the waves of it, gasping and grasping for him, pulling him up to kiss her again. He laid beside her as she caught her breath, one hand still flat on her belly, until she turned to kiss him more easily, working her own tongue into his mouth and reaching for the bulge in his pants, massaging it with her hand.
He moaned, and she moved her hand to his belt, quickly growing frustrated at her attempts to undo it with only one hand. She broke the kiss and frowned down at it, finally managing to unbuckle the belt but then getting stuck on his pants button. She looked absolutely adorable, her brow furrowed and her lips pressed tight together, and he gently placed his hand over hers, moving it off and standing up to undress himself.
"Can you get out of that dress?" he asked as he started unbuttoning his shirt, and she frowned even harder.
"I can do anything. Including—" She gestured to his outfit. "—all of that."
"I have no doubt," he said, amused, and pulled his shirt over his head, undoing his pants as she unzipped the side of her dress and shimmied out of it. This required a certain arch of the back from Rachel, almost writhing against the bed, and he was straining against his underwear by the time he could pull it off and put the condom on. She kept her sling on, a reminder he was grateful for, even if she was so much stronger than before.
He climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself over her, and met her eyes. "Ready?" he asked.
She nodded, keeping her chin high and anchoring her hand at the base of his neck as he eased inside of her. She inhaled deeply, and on her exhale said, "Don't wait for me."
"What?"
She held his gaze, arching up against him and kissing him before pulling back and saying, "You don't have to wait for me."
He grunted his displeasure and said, "I don't have to do a lot of things."
She scratched her nails through his hair, letting out a breathy laugh, and said, "I just reverse-psychology'd you into the best orgasm of my life, didn't I?" He grunted again, and she laughed again, and he turned his focus to the soft skin under her chin, building a slow and steady rhythm as he worshipped and tasted and caressed as much of her skin as he could reach.
It certainly wasn't that he would have done anything differently, without the challenge, but triggering his innate stubbornness was always a recipe for unparalleled determination, and giving her another earth-shaking orgasm definitely improved his own release, when he let it happen.
They curled up together afterward, and Rachel said, "D'you think I learned my lesson?"
"Do you ever?"
She slapped lightly at his hand, where it rested on her waist. "Hey."
He stretched his head back on the pillow, lengthening his neck without moving his body away from hers, and said, "I'm not complaining."
"You'd have no ground to stand on if you were."
"I'm not!" he said again, grinning at the ceiling, and she fell silent, her fingers folding around his.
She was silent long enough that he thought she'd fallen asleep and was about to get up to turn the lights off when she murmured sleepily, "I gotta get my own place."
He raised a hand to move her hair off the back of her neck, placing a kiss at her hairline and murmuring back into her skin, "Yeah, you do." He kissed her again and then got up, turning off the lights on the way to the bathroom and returning to find her fast sleep.
He woke before her, though it wasn't early and he didn't get up until she began to rouse. Then he went to the kitchen wearing his slacks and undershirt and started a batch of pancakes. Once the smell filled the apartment, Rachel emerged from the bedroom yawning, wearing only his dress shirt and her sling.
She sat down in a kitchen chair and said grumpily, "Why'd you put your shirt on?"
He grinned, turning as the kettle clicked off and pouring her a cup of tea, bringing it to her at the table. "You realize this is still Tex's apartment," he said. "I'm not walking around half-naked in Tex's apartment.
As if in answer, they heard the small noises of the lock on the front door opening, and Rachel's eyes widened as she leapt up from her chair and ran back into her bedroom. Chandler couldn't wipe the grin off his face, and as the children filed into the kitchen, followed by Tex, he poured more batter on the griddle.
The kids were chattering away loudly as they grabbed glasses of juice and sat down around the kitchen table, and he heard more than one happy exclamation of "Pancakes!"
Tex came up to him at the stove to give him a hearty slap on the shoulder, and Chandler muttered through his grin, "You couldn't have had breakfast over there?"
"You were out of OJ, man. I put them off as long as I could. Trust me, I did not want to walk in on—"
Rachel rejoined them in the kitchen, dressed for the day and smiling. "Hey guys," she said on her way through, coming up beside Chandler and kissing him on the cheek. While she was on her toes (and Tex was making gagging noises and walking away), she said into his ear, "It's not like it was a secret, right?"
"And you need to get your own place," he murmured back.
"Right," she said, standing beside him at the stove with her hand on his back.
"Are you two boyfriend-girlfriend now?" Ashley asked loudly, and Rachel raised her eyebrows at him before turning and taking a few steps toward the table.
"Would that be okay with you?" she asked, and Chandler froze at the stove with his spatula in the air, watching Rachel's back and the kids on the other side of her. Her good hand curled tightly around the hem of her top as she waited for an answer.
"Yeah!" Sam said, while Ashley shrugged.
"Sure. You're nice, and Dad really likes you." She looked past Rachel to make eye contact with her dad. "Like, really likes you. Like, really really—"
"Okay, Ashley!" Chandler cut her off, walking up beside Rachel to wrap an arm around her waist and press a kiss to her temple before carrying his plate of pancakes to the table. He heard Rachel blow out a relieved breath as she turned to the cupboards to fetch plates and then the cutlery drawer to pile forks on top and carry the stack to the table. Chandler got the syrup and the butter and they all sat down to eat.
The kids were tasked with cleaning up the kitchen so they could do their homework at the table, and Chandler walked back into Rachel's room to put his shirt on. She followed, closing the door, and wrapped her arms around him from behind as he tried to button up his shirt.
"Do you suppose they'd have an apartment ready for me to move into next weekend?"
He finished the buttons and left it untucked for the moment as he turned around and returned the hug. "Probably. I know my building is mostly empty."
She rested her cheek on his chest, her hands clasped behind his back, and said, "Would that be… weird? Living in the same building?"
He snorted a laugh. "Unless the building snaps in half and falls into the sea, I think we're good."
"Fair enough." She stayed where she was for a minute, then looked up for a kiss, which turned into a few kisses, before leaving him to finish tucking in his shirt.
When Chandler left the room a moment later and walked down the hall, Tex bellowed, "Walk of shame!" at the top of his lungs from the living room. Turning into the room, Chandler found Tex in the armchair and Rachel cross-legged on the couch, covering her face with her hand and shaking her head.
Chandler gave Tex a long, unimpressed look. He didn't have to say what he was thinking; Tex just rolled his eyes, and Chandler went to sit beside Rachel, putting his arm around her waist.
"You want me to get your apartment sorted out?" he asked her quietly, and she laid her hand on his knee.
"If it's not too much trouble. Then we can move me in on Saturday?"
"No trouble, but won't you be tired after your first week?"
"Mmm. Maybe Sunday then. I mean, if you're going to make me do all the work."
He smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple, and she relaxed against his side.
"You two are disgusting," Tex said loudly from across the room, rattling the newspaper he was holding open in front of his face.
"Yeah," Chandler said, still talking to Rachel but raising his voice slightly, "we definitely need to move you out of here as soon as possible."
"Be nice," Rachel said, patting her hand on his leg. "After putting up with me as a houseguest for the last couple of months, I think Tex is allowed to be as rude and loud-mouthed as he likes."
"Thanks?" Tex said, sounding slightly demoralized as he hunched further into his chair and shook his newspaper out again.
Chandler laughed, laying his head back on the couch cushion, and Rachel folded her legs to the other side, resting her head on his shoulder and her arm over his waist. They lay there in a dreamy, lazy Sunday silence, the only sounds the kids' chatter in the kitchen and the rustle of Tex's newspaper.