I look down at my hand, my fingers wrapped around Chandler's, and make a face. I look at him out of the corner of my eye—he's looking at the TV, completely absorbed in…whatever it is we're watching.

This feels a little weird. I hate that. It shouldn't be weird; we've been waiting for months for this day—the day when he could finally move in and we could just have time to ourselves.

Now we do, and I don't know what we should be doing. It's never really just been the two of us. There's always someone else around, or someone we were hiding from. Now…there's nothing.

Just us.

And I love it—don't get me wrong. I guess I'm just not used to it.

As ready as I was for Rachel to move out, I don't know if I was prepared for just how empty her room would look or how quiet the apartment would feel.

Usually, at this time of night, Ross and Phoebe would be leaving, and Joey would be headed out for his latest conquest, but Rachel would still be out in the living room with us, watching TV or talking until one of us decided it was time for bed.

But Rachel and Phoebe spent most of the day at their place getting Rachel settled in—we saw them at the coffeehouse for a little while, but they seemed pretty eager to get back to their lives. Joey and Ross came over for an hour or so after, but for most of the night, it's just been us.

All of his stuff is over here now, though we haven't gotten it all put away yet. We worked on it for a little while, but there's still a lot that needs to be put into new homes.

That godforsaken dog is out on the balcony.

At least Chandler's not thrilled with it, either, but it seemed to mean a lot to Joey that we have it.

I push myself into Chandler's side and he releases my fingers, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I feel him kiss the top of my head—he seems to be dealing with this whole big change very well.

He doesn't seem as confused by it all, not the way I am, at any rate.

I think my fight with Rachel last night is still throwing me off. We patched things up, but some of what she said is still bothering me.

I didn't just stumble across the hall to find a boyfriend. I had no idea when I slept with Chandler back in London that we would ever be more than just a one night stand, and I certainly never stayed with him just because I wanted a boyfriend. I stayed with him because I love him, and he's everything I ever wanted.

It kind of hurts that someone would even think that, though, and it would probably crush Chandler if he ever heard that Rachel said that about our relationship.

I mean, if all I wanted was a boyfriend, I'm sure I could have managed that. I wanted a relationship. I have a relationship. I have the best guy in the world by my side. A guy that I truly think I could spend forever with.

There's no way in the world I'd be thinking about that kind of future with him if I was so hard-up for a boyfriend that I was willing to take just any warm body I came across…despite the outward appearance of the night I went to his hotel room.

Yes, I was looking for Joey and wound up with Chandler, but I don't think that means at all that I was looking for just anyone. I could have found just anyone if that's what I wanted. I needed someone I could trust, who wouldn't hurt me or judge me for needing one night. When it comes down to it, I don't know if I could have brought myself to sleep with Joey, and if kissing Chandler hadn't felt like a piece of a puzzle falling into place, I don't know that I would have slept with him either. But Chandler felt right.

Besides—Rachel doesn't know about the Joey thing. No one knows about that. And I don't think it matters, because Chandler is wonderful, and I wouldn't spend more than a year with him if this wasn't what I wanted out of life.

I know that it's true, and I hope he does, too. Ultimately, it doesn't matter at all if that's what Rachel or anyone else thinks, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting when she says something like that.

As weird as it feels right now, I still know that living with him is what I want to do. In a few days or, at worst, a few weeks, this will feel like normal.

A new normal. A wonderful normal.

It still feels nice to think that this is our place now.

Even with that ugly chair of his.

No—you don't consider a future with someone just because you're desperate to not be alone. I was boyfriendless for about a year and that was because I didn't want to waste time with other people. Drunken one-night-stand before my brother's wedding…okay, maybe a little desperate. But what we have isn't built on that. He doesn't make my heart pound because he's convenient.

I'm so excited about this. It'll take us some time to get used to each other's rhythms, at least in this respect, but we'll be all right. We both know this is just a stepping stone. At some point we'll talk more about the bigger stuff, like marriage and babies.

That babies thing has been on my mind a lot more lately.

Watching him hold Phoebe's niece last week definitely did things to me that I wasn't expecting. I know he panics when the subject of kids is brought up, but he's a natural with them. Little Chandler just sat on his lap, perfectly content. At one point, she even fell asleep on him, and I watched him sway her back and forth without even thinking about it. He just walked around the apartment with the baby in one arm, carrying on about his normal life, and all I could think about was how this is the man I want to have children with.

This is not a vague, "I want to have kids someday" sort of thing; this is a definite "I want to have kids with Chandler" thing. He's going to be the father of my children some day.

That thought makes my heart want to explode from happiness.

I know I nearly sent him into a tailspin when I came this close to saying watching the triplets would give us great practice for our own—I know he knew that I was going to say it. It just almost fell out of my mouth. Practicing for parenthood with him seems like the most natural thing in the world.

He's still very skittish about some things, and the babies talk is still a ways off.

I don't mind, though, as long as he's willing to have that talk at some point.

We'll get there.

I feel his hand stroke my arm and I look up at him, smiling when I see the look in his eyes. He's really happy.

That makes this a lot less weird.

"You know what we've never really talked about?" he asks suddenly.

I know where my mind goes instantly—kids. I'm positive that's not what he's thinking about, though. "What's that?"

"Our sides of the bed. You ever notice that? We just kind of…fall asleep."

"Well, I sort of noticed at one point, but it didn't really matter."

"Really? Why didn't you say anything?"

I just shrug. "Well, like you said, we usually just fall asleep. It's never felt important."

"Monica," he says slowly, and I look up at him again. "Have I been sleeping on your side of the bed?"

"Technically?"

"Not technically. Actually."

"Well, maybe, you tend to fall asleep on the side of the bed that I usually prefer. But," I hurry to say. "It doesn't matter because I'm happy just to sleep next to you. Honestly. Since we've been together, I haven't had any trouble sleeping, regardless of what side of the bed I'm on. So, I don't really have a 'side' anymore. You're there, I'm happy."

"You know, I guess I haven't really thought about it, but you're right. That's always been my side, too, but I've never really thought about it when we fall asleep. Should we…figure that out, though?"

"What, you mean have an official side of the bed? Does it really matter? We can if you want to, but I'm okay with things the way they've been going. I don't need a designated nightstand or anything; I don't mind sharing with you. I don't think there's going to be much to hide."

He presses a kiss to the side of my head. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely," I answer, nodding. "I don't mind at all tumbling into bed every night and seeing where we land."

"Well, what do you say we tumble into bed now?" he asks softly.

A shiver runs down my spine. Our first night in our apartment. "I'd love to."

He grabs the remote and turns off the TV, taking my hand as he stands. Together, we walk slowly to the bedroom.

Our bedroom.

Part of me can't believe this is actually happening, and suddenly, it doesn't feel weird at all.

It just feels incredibly right.

I look around the room—he's everywhere now. His clothes are in the closet and the drawers, some of his knickknacks are mixed with mine on top of bureaus.

It's starting to look like our place.

His lips are on my neck suddenly and I smile. I think we definitely deserve "we just moved in together" sex.

His fingers slide under the edge of my shirt, tracing the outside of my bellybutton for a few moments before they disappear into the waistband of my jeans.

"Right to the point," I mumble and he laughs against my neck. I turn in his arms, leaning up to kiss him. My fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt, popping a few of them open before I'm distracted by him opening the button on my pants. He steps back, dropping to his knees in front of me, his hands tugging my pants down my legs. I kick them to the side as he presses his lips to my stomach, his teeth gently scraping at my skin. I run my fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his neck with a sigh.

He nips at me through my panties all of a sudden and I gasp, my body jerking against him. His hands stroke my ass gently as he teases me, and I can feel myself responding to him, getting worked up already.

I grab the bottom of my shirt and toss it over my shoulder; I look down at him, his eyes already on me.

It's almost unnerving.

He drags his lips up my body, taking moments to bite at my skin. He takes my face in his hands and I look up at him, having one of those moments where it feels like he towers over me.

"Welcome home," I whisper, and he smiles, pressing his lips to mine, kissing me softly. I moan softly into his mouth, my fingers working the buttons of his shirt again. I push it off his shoulders and grab at his t-shirt, keeping him close to me.

I know it's crazy, but there's something unbelievably hot about me being in nothing but my underwear while he's fully dressed. Ordinarily, I'd assume it's the sort of thing he'd be into, and he is, but it arouses the hell out of me, too.

I feel his fingers slide in between my breasts, popping open the front clasp of my bra. For a second I wonder how he knew where to find it, but he was with me when I got dressed this morning; I'm sure my underwear is something he pays close attention to.

The garment falls off my shoulders and I sit on the edge of the bed, working at the button of his jeans, unzipping them carefully over his erection. I only push them a little past his hips, fascinated by the sight of him straining against his boxer briefs, the heady sensation of knowing that I do this to him running through my veins.

I excite him. I make him happy.

I run my fingers over him gently and he hisses, his eyes falling shut as his hips thrust gently against my touch. I push his pants down the rest of way and he grabs the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head. I run my hands down his legs, my fingers sliding under the legs of his shorts.

I want him so bad.

He pushes his underwear down, his erection springing free; I groan, and before I can help myself, I grab his hips and pull him to me, my lips sliding over him. His hand immediately threads through my hair, and I can feel the tension in his arm as he tries not force my head down.

Dear GOD, I love doing this. I love doing it to him.

I move my mouth slowly, humming with happiness, and I feel him shiver. I run my tongue over him carefully, making sure to take in every bit of him that I can. I move closer, needing to be closer to him; I'm so turned on right now I can't stand it.

I feel his hand tugging the hair at the nape of my neck and I moan, goosebumps popping up all over my arms. I slide my hand under the waistband of my panties, squeaking at little at the contact, the relief I feel almost instantaneous. I move against him faster and he groans loudly.

"Jesus, Monica!" he exclaims suddenly. I open my eyes and look up at him; his eyes are wide and I feel his hips jerk against me a couple of times. I realize I must look like some sort of porn fantasy right now, but I don't care. It all feels too good.

With a great deal of effort, he takes a step back from me, both of us breathing heavily. He bends over, his hands on his knees and I see him swallow heavily as he realizes I haven't stopped working on myself. I watch one of his hands come up and he strokes himself gently and my entire body starts to vibrate. I move my hand for a second to rip off my underwear, my fingers returning to their ministrations. I bite my lip as I arch my back, my other hand supporting myself on the bed as we stare at each other, our moans filling the room.

It's like a standoff, each of us waiting to see who'll cave first.

Maybe it makes me cocky, but I'm pretty sure I can win this one. I quite enjoy watching him touch himself, especially when I know it's because I've turned him on, but nothing gets him off faster than when he watches me.

My eyes drift shut as I gasp, my hips thrusting against my hand. Chandler whimpers and I hear him shuffle toward me. I take that as my cue and scoot myself back on the bed, laying down, bracing my feet on the mattress as I wait. He kneels on the bed and crawls toward me, his body settling against mine as my legs wrap around him. His warm, comforting weight covers me, his hand stroking my side.

He smiles, kissing me gently, and I run my hand down his spine. "We actually moved in together," he whispers. "Can you believe it?"

I shift myself against him, humming happily of the feel of him pressing into me. "This is going to be so amazing."

He kisses my nose playfully. "The sex?"

"Obviously."

He chuckles a little, giving me another kiss. "You're right. Living together is going to be great."

"I'm so happy," I say softly, grinning up at him. He runs his fingers through my hair, and I can feel his heart beating steadily against my chest.

"Then I'm happy." His lips are on mine again, kissing me passionately, his body moving against mine. I wrap myself around him tightly, needing to feel him close.

He pulls back, looking into my eyes, his expression suddenly a bit more serious. "I love you. I don't know if I've told you that today."

"You don't have to tell me every day," I whisper, stroking his cheek.

"Yes, I do."

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to contain my smile. "I love you, too."

He rests his forehead against mine and shifts his hips, moving himself against me gently, and I let out a shuddery moan. Just this feels amazing.

I unravel one of my legs from his waist, rubbing my foot against his calf, and I can feel him at my entrance. I push my hips up a little and he slides into me, filling me completely; my body simultaneously tenses up and tries to go slack. I don't know what it is that he does to me, but it's pretty unbelievable.

He moves against me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine—I can't believe this used to freak me out. Now, watching each other when we make love is an extraordinary experience. I love the way his eyes change colors, and how his forehead furrows in concentration.

I feel his knees come up behind my thighs and I gasp, my fingers digging into his back.

"Chandler," I whisper, and he gives me a gentle kiss.

"Monica," he answers just as quietly.

Somehow, we manage to speak volumes.

He moves to my neck, and I feel him nip at my throat. My arms tense around him as my back arches, and I somehow vaguely notice that we're completely upside down on the bed.

He pauses for a second and I feel his hands shift behind me, resting under my head as he grabs onto the edge of the mattress. All of a sudden, he's pounding into me; my eyes slam shut against the onslaught, my body humming with electricity, every nerve ending on fire.

"Oh, God," I moan, and he moves his hips faster. "Oh, God. Yes. Oh, yes."

Without warning, he slows down, resuming his gentle, languid pace. I let out a strangled sound, my body suddenly feeling deprived.

"Why'd you stop?" I groan.

"We're just getting started, baby."

My toes actually curl.

I feel one of his hands slide between us, and for just a second I wonder if I can handle this before I feel his fingers rubbing against me.

My back arches even farther off the bed and I lock my ankles against his lower back, clenching myself around him. He just moves his fingers faster.

I bite his shoulder, possibly hard enough to leave a mark, a sob-like noise leaving my mouth. I push my hips faster, and I feel like I'm so close already.

Suddenly, his hand is gone and my eyes fly open. He moves slowly against me once more.

"You're being an ass on purpose," I gasp, my thighs clutching at his sides, my muscles trembling.

"Our first night together in our apartment should be special," he breathes as he thrusts into me.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh."

"You deserve special."

"Chandlerrrrrrrr."

His lips are on mine again, his hips pounding into me, and I feel my legs curl up, my knees pressed against his ribs. My mind can't keep up with him right now, and maybe that's for the best.

Thinking is so overrated.

My head falls back, hanging over the edge of the bed, and his lips attacks my throat, my chest, my shoulders. His hips slow down again, but he still drives into me ceaselessly.

"Oh, God, baby," I moan into his ear, and feel his body tense for just a second. I thought it would get old eventually, but he likes how noisy I am. He says it's good for his ego.

He groans into my ear and I kiss his neck. "I love you so much," I gasp; he wraps his arms around me tighter, pushing his hips up a little every time he strokes into me, grinding his pelvis against mine.

"Yes. Yes yes yes. Oh, my God, please. Like that ohhhhhhhh."

I can hear his heavy breathing in my ear, his breath hot and damp against my neck, and I suddenly feel weightless, like I'm flying.

It's amazing.

My eyes fly open suddenly—I'm not flying, I'm falling. Chandler's been driving into me so hard that I'm slipping off the foot of the bed.

An instant later I hit the floor, cringing as I land on my back. My eyes go wide as I see Chandler coming at me. I brace myself to be crushed, my eyes closing tightly instinctively.

I hear a thud and crack one eye open—Chandler's wincing, but he's managed to catch himself mostly on his hands, most of his weight off of me.

"Oh, honey, are you okay?" I ask, reaching up to stroke his face.

He groans as he drags himself to his knees, flinching again; I'm guessing he landed on those, too. He braces his back against the footboard, looking at me pathetically, and I bite my lip, trying to stifle my laughter.

"It's not funny," he tells me and I sit up, snorting.

"It really is, actually. We fell off the bed during sex. That's kind of hilarious." I let out a groan as I laugh, my hand going to my lower back.

That's going to suck in the morning.

"That was nothing like in the movies," he complains, giving his hand a little shake, flexing his fingers. "In movies, they roll off the bed and keep going."

I climb onto his lap, still trying to fight my laughter. "In movies, they have stunt doubles and mats to fall on and rehearsals. Real life's a bit messier."

His lips finally quirk up as he tries not to smile. "Falling on the floor is not at all sexy."

I take his face in my hands and kiss him around my laughter. "No, but it's real. Plus, we were so into it, we weren't aware of anything else. That's kinda hot."

He shrugs, somewhere between pouting and laughing. "Yeah, but now the mood is gone."

I pull back and look at him, confused. "It is?"

"It isn't?"

"Sweetie, this is real life. Things get messy and they're not always perfect, but that's what makes it great. We laugh and we keep going. I know I sure as hell will never forget the time we fell off the bed while having sex." I slide my hand down his chest, my fingers finding the tip of his erection; his hips jerk up against me.

"Won't we be sore tomorrow?" he whispers, and I just smile.

"I'm usually some level of sore after sex with you," I answer, shifting my hips up, enveloping just the tip of him. "I take a couple of aspirin and go about my business."

"I make you sore?"

"Stop fishing for compliments," I whisper, sliding down onto him, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my eyes rolling back in my head. "Oh, God," I groan, rolling my hips against his.

"You sure you're okay?" he whispers, his fingers digging into my thighs.

"Yeaaaaaah," I answer, pushing myself against him, the pain of crash landing on the floor temporarily forgotten. "You?" I barely remember to ask.

His lips wrap around my nipple—I take that to mean he's okay.

I feel myself hurtling back to where we were before we fell off the bed, my body eager to pick up where we left off.

One of his hands reaches up to his shoulder, grabbing mine, lacing our fingers together. He gives me a squeeze, and in that moment, it feels more intimate than anything else.

He pushes his hips up a little, but I'm content to do the bulk of the work right now. I think his ego is bruised more than anything at the moment and I'm happy to try to repair the damage.

My free hand wraps around his shoulders; his hand presses against the small of my back, pulling me into him, our bodies moving against each other frantically.

I gasp and clutch his fingers tighter, our joined hands resting on my thigh. I can hear him breathing heavily against my chest, moaning in pleasure, and his teeth graze my nipple.

"Oh, God, yes." I start moving against him rapidly, too fast for him to keep me in his mouth. His frees his fingers, the tips sliding against my quivering stomach muscles, his touch feather-light. I tighten my grip on his shoulders, my now free hand grabbing onto his bicep. "Ohhhhhh."

"So beautiful," he whispers and I open my eyes, looking down to him. He smiles at me lazily, his pupils dilated, sweat trickling down the sides of his face. I lean down to kiss him, just that slight angle change almost doing me in.

His fingers slide down my stomach, disappearing between my thighs, and I almost bite off his lip at the contact.

"OHMYGOD OHMYGODOHMYGODOHYESYESYESYESOHHHHGOD!" I spiral out of control, the world exploding behind my eyes, and I probably nearly burst his eardrum as I yell out, my body jerking against him, completely abandoned and frantic.

"Baby YES!" I cry out, my back arching, pushing my chest into his, my falling back as I call out to the ceiling, holding onto him for dear life.

I feel him move faster beneath me for a few more seconds, his grip on me tightening, his fingers moving faster reflexively, and all of a sudden he's groaning loudly against my neck, and ride him harder, faster, drawing out our orgasms for as long as possible, and somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that I no longer have a roommate who has to pretend she didn't overhear me having sex or who'll give Chandler funny, curious looks in the morning.

The only roommate I have now is the one who makes me make these noises, who sometimes makes them with me, who only looks at me with love in the mornings, and it's the most incredible sensation in the world.

My head drops against his shoulder, my entire body going limp, and I can feel him twitching slightly, quiet, satisfied moans echoing in my ear. I feel him kiss my neck, his lips curving into a smile. "It's good to be home."

I frown for a moment before I remember my earlier comment, laughing a little. I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly. "I have something for you. Sort of a house-warming gift."

"You didn't have to do that," he tells me, kissing my shoulder, and I just shrug, unraveling my limbs from around him. I stand slowly, stretching my legs carefully, and hold out my hand for him. He grabs on, standing with a groan, laughing a little as he winces in pain. "You know, if we were twenty, I probably could have pulled off that maneuver with no trouble. Now that I'm almost thirty, I'm going to be in pain for a week."

"Eww. My boyfriend is old." He pinches my ass and jump, yelping. "Get into bed," I tell him, giving him a shove, and he pulls back the covers, crawling in between the sheets. I pull a flat, brown paper bag out of the nightstand draw and hand it to him, sliding into bed next to him.

"What's this?" he asks and I roll my eyes.

"That's why you open it, doofus. Otherwise, I would have just handed it to you."

"Calling me names on our first night," he says, making a face at me. "This bodes well."

"Get over it. I've been calling you names for years. I do it with love."

He scoffs a little and opens the bag, pulling out a little yellow, diamond-shaped sign, complete with suction cup on the back. He grins at me, looking every inch like a little boy. "Merge?" he asks me, and I give the sign a little flick.

"Merge," I answer, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "I felt kind of bad about shooting your idea down. I thought this would make up for it a little."

"I love you," he tells me, smiling at the miniature construction sign. "Where should I put it?"

"Anywhere you want, honey. It's your home, too."

He glances around the room, searching for a place to put it, and I realize that I completely mean it. He can put it anywhere he wants because he lives here, too. It's our home now, and it should look like we both live here. Finally, he puts the sign back in the bag, laying it carefully on the other nightstand. I look at him curiously and he shrugs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him. "I'll find a spot in the morning. For now, I'd rather just lie next to you. Besides, my legs are too shaky for me to get very far right now."

I grin and wrap my arm around his chest. He turns his head and our lips meet, and I have a hard time believing that I thought this felt weird.

It feels perfect and completely right. We're actually merging, as corny as that sounds. We're becoming a unit, and it's unbelievably exciting.

I giggle suddenly and he looks at me oddly. "Oh, my God, we actually live together!" It feels like it's just hitting me and I'm just giddy.

I scoots down in bed, pulling me with him, and I drape my leg over his, his hand resting on my hip, and I can feel him smile against my hair. "We actually live together."

I laugh again, gently pinching his side. "Merge."