Chandler honestly couldn't decide which was more unbelievable – that he'd been together with Monica for almost half a year or that he hadn't freaked out for fully three weeks now. Three whole weeks of calm and peaceful happiness, undiluted joy and fun. Try as he might he couldn't remember ever experiencing that before. Three weeks with nothing happening that might cause him any worries or anxieties, let alone panic. Three weeks where he could just live in the moment, relax and enjoy himself and being with Monica.

It got so far that he felt secure enough to take things up a notch. Not really that much, because ever since Monica had laid out her 'baby steps' program to him, he was following it almost religiously. It made so much sense. To take things slow meant that not only were they playing it safe, but also enjoying each single small step, each and every progress so much more than if they were rushing through it. Plus it felt really good.

So as far as taking their relationship to the next level was concerned he for one was in no hurry at all. No sir. But the idea of spending the whole weekend together at his place, not just the night but the full three days made even more sense if you thought about it as a sort of experimental living together. He knew he wasn't ready for that yet, but a weekend together could definitely be classified as a baby step in that direction.

And so far it had worked pretty great. Last night had been so wonderful with their cuddle in his chair, sharing Monica's old pajamas and a crossword puzzle before one more awesome round of sex in bed, still in those pajama halves. Which they had kept on for their morning round too. If all went well, they would do it again tonight, this time with his pajamas, the one he had worn in London – if only briefly. Yes, life was so good. Even if there had been some minor – very minor – setbacks, like Monica's endless difficulties to adapt to his and Joey's kitchen which she kept nagging about between determined cleaning attacks and repeated excursions to #20 to retrieve one more vital kitchen tool she couldn't do without. Or his inability earlier to come up with a better joke than that rather obvious one with the donuts upon Phoebe's discovery of the police badge. Or Joey's strange behavior towards Monica, although that had seemed to freak her out much more than him. On their return to their apartments she had gotten rid of the blue sweater so fast as if it was on fire or something. A pity really as she had looked quite cute in it, but then Monica looked cute in everything, including that Harlem sweatshirt she had put on instead.

But all that was just really small stuff that he certainly wasn't going to sweat. No need to freak out about anything. As far as he was concerned, freaking out was done with anyway, a thing of the past.

He was almost sure about that.

Especially now with the two of them alone together in his kitchen and him sitting at the counter and watching Monica happily busying herself with all those tons of stuff they had gotten at the market earlier, or rather all those vegetables, herbs, ingredients and countless other things she had tirelessly gathered together and he had had to carry all the way from the market and over all five flights of stairs. Apparently it was all just for one big pot of vegetable soup with something or other on the side which she wouldn't elaborate on. But it didn't matter really if it just made Monica happy. Nothing else mattered. If there was one thing he'd learned in the past six months it was that if Monica was happy, it pretty much automatically followed that he was happy too. Like a magic formula that never failed. And over time he had become really good at making sure that Monica was happy. True, there had been setbacks, plenty of them, but not as many as there used to be, and he was becoming quite adept at spotting the forewarnings of trouble and danger and taking steps to avoid them. Sitting here watching Monica preparing yet another wonderful meal from which he would draw all the strength and stamina he needed for another satisfactory performance that night, he felt that nothing could really ever mar his equilibrium again.

Not even Phoebe when she burst through the door and came to a dead stop, staring at them confusedly.

"Oh – what are you doing here?"

Chandler smiled at her sunnily. "Hi Pheebs!"

"What do you mean?" Monica asked. "I told you we're spending the weekend over here."

"Oh. You're still doing that? And how's it working out for you so far?"

Monica shrugged complacently. "Good. We've had a few hitches, but I've got everything running smoothly now."

"Hitches?"

"Monica thinks our fridge wants to eat her" Chandler informed her calmly, stealing a piece of carrot from under Monica's nose.

"Yeah, I don't really trust that thing either" Phoebe said, sounding quite serious. "Every time I open it, I feels like it wants a drop of my blood or a bit of my hair or something, so it can wield its evil power over me. Brrr! But it will never get me!"

Monica just smiled quizzically and continued to chop her vegetables, leaving Chandler to find a change of subject.

"Did you turn in the badge?" he asked at length.

"Oh, I wanted to, but then I saw this guy throwing his coffee cup in the gutter and gave him a piece of mind. And so this guy was all um, ahm, erm, um - and I'm all, Buffay, Homicide!" And she flashed them the badge, her eyes sparkling. "It was just so cool!"

Monica shook her head at her. "Phoebe, you were supposed to take that back!"

"I know but I'm having so much fun doing good deeds!" Yeah, that was so Phoebe. By right she should have been Superwoman. Or a fearless warrior princess battling evil bloodthirsty fridges.

"Okay, but impersonating a police officer is a serious thing. You could get arrested."

She promptly whipped out the badge and flashed it right at him. "You could get arrested, right now!" But when they just glared at her silently, she abruptly sobered again.

"All right, yeah, I gotta take it back. I'm totally drunk with power."

At least she'd realized it on her own. Just as she hurriedly left, the badge still clutched in her hand, Joey came in, nodding to her in passing and then coming to a dead stop when he saw Monica at the stove, an odd expression coming to his face.

"Hi Joe ..."

"Yeah, I didn't know you guys were going to be here."

Huh? They had explained their weekend plan at least half a dozen times to him, stressing expressly that Monica would leave their fridge alone each time. But the last time had been how long ago, two hours? That would explain it – but not his obvious panic when Monica turned to him holding out a long spoon to him.

"Hey Joey, do me a favor sweetie, taste this."

"What?! Why?!" Joey almost bumped against the door in his efforts to avoid her.

"It's okay Joe. She's a trained chef." Chandler had substituted 'because she never believes me that it tastes great' in the last second for that and then frowned at his roommate as he still tried to dodge Monica. Joey foregoing a taste? What had the world come to?

"Uh, actually I was uh looking for Phoebe."

"You just missed her!"

"Oh was that her? I gotta go." But when he tried to escape Monica held the door closed.

"All right Joey, wait a minute. Wait. What is going on with you?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh, come on! You've been acting strange all day!" Which was ironic since Joey didn't even try to hide his discomfort by acting. As always whatever acting skills he did possess seemed to fly out of the window as soon as he was emotionally upset by something. And now he surrendered without even one more effort.

"All right! There is something. I kinda had a dream … but I don't want to talk about it."

A dream? That didn't sound too bad. Joey's dreams were usually pretty predictable with a very exclusive range of subjects – getting the Oscar, free access to the female students' dorm of NYU and a FOC heap of sandwiches delivered twice a day, not necessarily in that order.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-what-what if Martin Luther King had said that?" Chandler mused. "I … kinda have a dream! I don't want to talk about it ..."

Joey straightened his shoulders. "Well, it involved Monica."

Whoa. Whoa? Who–hoa!

"You had a dream about a girl that I am seeing?! Oh, that is so cool!" Chandler almost forgot himself in his exhilaration as he turned to Monica. "I can't tell you how many times I've dreamt about a girl that he was seeing." Ooops. Open mouth, insert foot … Wincing he turned to Joey again. "Anyway we're talking about your dream." When it occurred to him that Monica needed – and deserved - at least a token reassurance, just in the extremely unlikely case she would chose to, well, misunderstand, he turned back to her again adopting his trusty puppyface look. "I love you." Ah yes, that made her smile. Phew. Immediate danger averted. Again. So, back to Joey. Was this what tightrope walkers felt like? "Your dream?"

Joey tried to adopt a truly sincere expression. "Don't worry, there wasn't any sex in it or anything. I haven't dreamt about her like that since I found out about you two - - ish."

Better and better. It would have been perfect if Monica hadn't been there, but still …

"What was the dream about?" Monica still seemed mostly amused. So far.

Joey took a deep breath. "Well, okay. You were my girlfriend and we were doing the crossword puzzle. You know like you guys were doing last night." His expression grew towards panic. "So, that's it. I'm in love with Monica and I'll be moving out."

He purposefully headed towards the door again, but Monica held him back while Chandler still couldn't believe his ears.

"Wait, Joey! Joey! That doesn't mean that - that you're in love with me!"

"It-it doesn't?" Joey looked almost pathetically hopeful.

"No!"

"No, it can mean anything." Chandler had recovered from his surprise. "Like uh, all of the sudden you're jealous because I've become the apartment stud."

"That kinda sounds like your dream dude." Joey said drily. Damn. Another cherished bubble burst.

"Or, it could mean that - that you saw Chandler and me together and we, you know, were being close and stuff and then you just want to have that with someone too." Of course, that had to be it. It was at times like these that he suspected that Monica knew Joey much better than he did.

Joey's face lit up. "In the dream I did enjoy the closeness …! Well if that's what it was, that'd be great. I wouldn't have to move!"

Joey wanting closeness? Cuddling? Togetherness? Even crossword puzzles?!

"Joey, look, are you attracted to Monica?" He took her by the shoulders, gently pushing her to stand in front of him. "Right here, right now, are you attracted to her?"

Joey studied her at length as she inadvertently stood at attention. "Not really."

"Well there you have it!" Case closed. Except that Monica took offense like he really should have known she would.

"Well sure! I'm just wearing sweats!" Only then she caught his eye and realized what kind of point he had wanted to make. "Um, but that's good that you're not in love with me, because you just want a girlfriend!"

Joey however disagreed. "No, I don't think it's just about just getting a girlfriend. I mean, yeah, I can get a girlfriend! Yeah, we could sit in the chair and do crosswords, but, you know, are we ever going to have the closeness like - like you guys have?!"

Not without a major change of lifestyle, obviously …

"Well y'know, Monica and I were friends before we started dating. So maybe - maybe that's it?"

"Friends first? That's interesting …" Joey had relaxed enough by now to pick up the spoon to taste the soup that was still bubbling merrily on the stove. Monica looked at him quizzically.

"You become friends after?"

"No, never done that either." And he said that in all truthfulness, without even a hint of irony. Chandler felt more gleeful by the moment. Joey wanted closeness, friendship, or rather: Joey wanted what he, Chandler, had. Finally.

And it felt so good.

Of course, Rachel had to come in at exact that moment when he wanted nothing more than to bask in his triumph. But Monica hated it when he gloated. Or danced, so maybe it was just as well.

"Hey, umm, do you guys have that tape measure?"

"Oh yeah, it's actually in my bedroom." He had replied without thinking, and only when it was out and he found Monica suddenly blushing and suppressing a giggle, he belatedly remembered how they had actually used that thing last. Ah yes, all that measuring, how hot had that been? When he had measured everything of Monica that could be measured until his erection had become almost painful and they - -

Only when Rachel and Joey grinned and nudged each other he realized what they were doing and, turning around with Monica almost simultaneously they fled to his bedroom. But just as he held the two halves of his door open for Monica to precede him, he looked back and saw Joey lazily leaning against the stove, looking Rachel up and down and smiling appreciatively. Wait a minute. What the hell -?

"What's up Joey?" Rachel's grin faltered a little.

"How you doin'?" Of course, he might have known. Joey had never been one for wasting time. Chandler saw Rachel's freeze under the onslaught of Joey's fully turned on blast of charm, her expression as puzzled as if he had just started talking Chinese to her.

Then Monica nudged him from behind. "What's happening? Chandler!"

He decided he didn't really want to witness the outcome of Joey's move and hurriedly dove through the door. "Oh, just Joey grasping at straws. He's really serious about that closeness thing. Wow, I can't believe it! Joey wants what I have!" He caught her glare just in time. "What we have rather!"

Monica frowned. "What?"

"Look! He's trying to hit on Rachel!" He let her see for herself through the crack of the upper half of the door. By now Joey was trying to inch closer to Rachel without appearing to do so, with a fixed smile on his face, while Rachel still seemed frozen in place, smiling at him uncertainly. Then Joey's hand came too close to the gas flame under the still bubbling pot of soup and the spell was broken.

"OUCH! Son offa bi-"

"Joey! Oh god, mind the – oh my god!" Monica almost flew to the kitchen to secure her pot that Joey had sent wobbling dangerously. But Joey who was now holding his smarting hand under the faucet obviously couldn't care less. When Rachel backed out of the kitchen giving the two of them a wide berth Chandler remembered the measuring tape and went to retrieve it for her. Rachel hesitated just a moment too long to take it and he grinned wryly.

"Don't worry, it's all squeaky clean again. It is Monica's tape, you see. Here, she put her name on it and all." Rachel smiled perfunctorily.

"Um, right. Oh, and Chandler, actually there's another thing I needed to ask you …"

.

.

Much later in the evening and safely back in his living-room waiting for Monica to finish her third remaking of his bed, and with Ross (hopefully) still locked in his life-and-death struggle with his new couch that just wouldn't pivot, he still caught himself shuddering and grinding his teeth at the memory. He even fancied that his ears were still ringing from his friend's frantic screaming – could be that he would never be able to shake off the echo for as long as he lived. Damn Ross and that bloody big whale of an unmoving, unwieldy, impossible to shift let alone pivot couch. Why why why had he ever agreed to lend a hand in this crazy venture? It wasn't as if Ross was his brother-in-law yet – aargh, there he went again, thinking about those forbidden subjects again. In-laws. Marriage. Commitment. No, don't go there, it's too soon. Way too soon. Baby steps, now that was the ticket. Nice and slow. Not babies, just baby steps, teeny tiny baby steps, one after the other.

His new mantra.

Okay, change of subject, something else to think about instead of the pivot disaster. Hmm. Phoebe and the rightful owner of the badge? Meh. Somehow the thought of Phoebe flashing the badge wherever she could still gave him the willies. Why she of all people had kept it instead of dropping it like a hot potato immediately was beyond him. And now she had actually met the cop in question and just barely escaped. What if he managed to track her down and she really got in trouble? It didn't bear thinking really.

Alright, so not Phoebe. What about tonight then? He still had to find something to occupy them both during their before bed snuggle on the Barcalounger. The Rubik's Cube obviously was a write-off, and they seemed to have run out of crossword puzzles. Maybe a nice book – a short story perhaps? Or a photo album? Would Monica actually let him look at her kid photos? Or worse, what if she insisted that he share his while they were at it? He honestly didn't think they were ready for his baby photos yet. Maybe in a couple of years. Or decades. Or never.

"Aaaand done!" Monica, bless her, came out of his bedroom and curled up in the other Barcalounger next to him. "I couldn't find a matching pillowcase for the second pillow though and I looked everywhere. Did you put it in the laundry?"

"Pillowcase, pillowcase … oh yeah, that one. I think Joey used it to get the chick to the vet."

Monica sighed. "Why do I even bother?"

Chandler hurriedly fumbled for a change of subject. "So … are we all set for tonight? Pajamas? Candles? Wine? Okay, great!" He leaned over the armrest of his chair trying to get close enough for a kiss. The chairs were still almost a yard apart so they both had to lean over quite a bit until their heads met in the space between for a long satisfying kiss. But just as he considered pushing his chair closer to hers and take things a bit further, Rachel came in, startling him so much he almost fell out of the chair.

"Hi! Awww, you two, that's soo –"

Chandler rolled his eyes.

"Sexy? Awesome?"

Rachel wagged her head. "Um, I was going more for cute …"

Chandler sighed. "Still seems to be a popular opinion about us these days."

"Oh, but please, don't mind me!" Rachel leaned against the counter and gazed at them wide-eyed, smiling encouragingly. Monica just shook her head.

"Man, I really really miss the sneaking ...!"

"Yeah, me too." They shared a look of complete and utter understanding and Chandler felt himself stirring just on the power of the memories. Rachel looked confused.

"Really? I thought it had to have been really awkward. And uncomfortable."

Monica smiled. "Maybe. But it was so hot!"

Suddenly Rachel seemed to be all ears. "Oh yeah? Like how?" She colored a little when they both glared at her and gamely cleared her throat. "I mean, I've been meaning to ask you, how did you actually do it? Did you wait when everybody was out, or –"

"Um, sometimes, yes, but mostly …"

"Chandler!" When she frowned at him, he abruptly shut his mouth, belatedly remembering her repeated warnings not to reveal too much of what they had between them to the others. Personally he thought it was a lost cause - especially with her, for as long as he'd known her she had never been able to shut up - but if it made her happy …

Rachel sighed deeply. "No, that's okay, I understand if it's too embarrassing."

Embarassing? Chandler and Monica shared another look, rather puzzled this time and Rachel laughed.

"Well, how would you like it if your ex told the salesman at the furniture store how many times you'd done it with him?"

"Yeah, sounds just like Ross" Chandler said dryly while Monica gasped. "Was it 288 or 298 times?"

"What?"

"Well, last time he told me it was 288. Or 298? He keeps adding to it, it's really hard to keep track."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Right, and even if it was correct, I mean what kind of loser does that anyway?!"

Chandler almost missed the fleeting uneasiness on Monica's face, there for just half a second and then gone again. But he had caught it and while he tried hard not to show his glee, deep inside he rejoiced. What a day.

Joey wanted what he had.

Ross' elaborate couch moving plan had failed.

Rachel hadn't been aware of their sneaking.

Monica had kept count. She actually had kept count!

Could life get any better than this?

"We did our sneaking at night mostly" he said to Rachel, suddenly feeling very magnanimous. Rachel's eyes widened.

"What? But I never heard anything!"

"Of course not" Monica smirked.

"But how did you do it when Ross lived here, I mean, did you really –"

"No!"

"When Ross was here, I sneaked over." Chandler vividly remembered the long waiting in the dark for Ross to finally start snoring, and then the slow and careful inching across the living-room to the door, letting himself out into the cold dark hallway, darting across to Monica's door, tiptoeing as swiftly and silently as possible through the dark apartment, into her bedroom where he'd fling off his clothes and dive into her bed and Monica's waiting arms, pressing against her hungrily and growing fully erect the very instant her body warmth and scent enveloped him … Oh yeah, those really were the days.

"And you were never caught?"

"Not even close." He smirked and Rachel narrowed her eyes at him until he relented. "Okay, I had to hide behind the couch once. Well, twice."

"Oh. Oh my." Rachel's eyes were shining. "And all the time I thought Monica was just playing at having a boyfriend."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh, you know, like when we were in high school and I was dating Chip, and you said you had a boyfriend too just to spite me."

That brought Monica to jump up from her Barcalounger so hard it almost toppled. "I did have a boyfriend!"

"Oh? And did he know it too?" Rachel smiled sweetly at Monica who hesitated just a fraction of a second too long, scowling. Chandler almost smirked but caught himself just in time and frantically searched his mind for a change of subject.

"So, did you get that monster couch shifted?"

Rachel winced and helped herself to some candy from a bowl on the counter.

"Um, it kinda shifted itself, when all those people trampled on it and broke it in two."

"What? But why were people trampling on it?" Chandler joined her at the counter to make sure he got his share from the bowl.

"Well, there was that fire alarm and it was still blocking the stairs" Rachel shrugged, a bit too casually and Monica frowned at her.

"So?"

"Hmm? Oh, Ross' took it back to the store to claim store credit for it." Rachel grinned wryly. "I really hadn't the heart to watch that."

"Store credit? For a broken couch?"

"Well, you know Ross …"

Just then Joey came in, nodding at them perfunctorily while Rachel gave him her most brilliant smile.

"Hey! How's it going? Did you make any new friends?"

Joey shrugged dismissively – too dismissively for his liking. "Yeah, yeah, I met this woman." And with that he already headed for his room and Chandler had to almost throw himself into his way to stop him.

"Hey, whoa - whoa! What's she like?"

Joey shifted uncomfortably. "Uhh, well, she's…really good in bed."

Yup, just as he had thought. Every so often Joey might be temporarily tempted by something, but at the end of the day his priorities always reasserted themselves.

"Joey, I thought you were gonna try to be friends first!" Monica wailed. Joey glared at Rachel.

"Well look, hey, it's all your fault!" Rachel's eyes widened.

"What?! Why?!"

"Well because you didn't give me advice! No! You gave me a pickup line! As soon as I told her I wanted to, you know, 'build a foundation!' and 'be friends first!', I suddenly - through No fault of my own - became irresistible to her!" He paused dramatically. "AND her roommate!"

Well, at least it had cured him of that stupid sentimentality …

"What about the closeness?" Monica still didn't want to give up.

"Closeness-shmoseness! There were three of us for crying out loud!"

So much for Joey's new love life goals. As his bedroom door shut behind his roommate Chandler felt a slight pang. How long had it lasted? Three, four hours? But still, Joey HAD wanted what he had. He had even dreamed about it. About having for himself what he'd had for half a year now, baby step program and all.

It was almost too good to be true.

.

.

It was past midnight when they'd finally returned to #19 and Chandler's London pajamas that were waiting for them on his pillow. Letting Monica finish all those strange rituals in the bathroom that she regarded as indispensable before going to bed, Chandler curled up in his Barcalounger to wait for her, taking stock of the day as he did so.

"Hey, do you think that Phoebe and that cop will hit it off? That it'll get serious?"

"Could be. He seemed pretty smitten with her."

"But a cop! Wouldn't that be too – dangerous for her? What if she's too weird for him?"

"Nah. He seemed really nice. I think they'll make a great couple."

"But what if he –", but whatever he had wanted to say was irretrievably lost when Monica emerged from the bathroom wearing only the pajama top and a sleepy smile, the sight of her making him gulp and start up from the chair. For a long moment he simply stared at her, then he abruptly jumped up and gathered her to him, gently lifting her up in his arms. She squealed softly and wrapped her legs around his waist, giggling when she felt him hardening against her until he clamped his mouth on hers. As he carried her to his bedroom he kicked the lower part of the door shut while Monica took care of the upper half, and then they almost fell on his bed, moaning and laughing breathlessly. She took hold of his almost painfully erect penis to rub the tip hard against her clit while he rubbed and sucked her nipples, letting his hands roam all over her under the pajama top. When at last she pressed him urgently against her entrance, he pushed into her while he held her close, his breath hitching and his eyes squeezed shut tightly, their moans and soft screams mingling and echoing each other. Dimly he felt her heels drumming against his buttocks und the back of his thighs, her nails sinking into his back as she strained against him, and then they were at it once more, for the umpteenth time (though he was pretty sure that she knew the exact number), locked and lost in that indescribably wonderful glorious union that neither of them could ever get enough of.

On most of these occasions he was able to hold back his own orgasm until she had climaxed at least once, but this time the urge to let go somehow got too strong for him. When he ended up panting and almost whimpering with the effort, clawing his hands into the bedspread, he felt Monica wrapping herself around him even tighter than before and her hands stroking his back and shoulders soothingly. Taking some deep shuddering breaths he tried to ride it out, then as soon as he felt himself going soft again he slid out of her and let his fingers take over the job, supporting himself on his elbows and knees. The sight of Monica under him, still in the pajama top, glowing and sweaty, all heated and squirming frantically as her climax finally approached was almost enough to turn him on again. Then it was done and he let himself fall on his back beside her, gasping and shuddering as the sweat cooled on his skin.

"Oh my god. That was so … so hot!"

"I know!" she crowed and he grinned wryly.

"I'm sorry I went so fast. Guess it got just too hot for me." He heaved himself onto his side and put his arm around her.

"That's okay. It was almost too much for me too." She put her hand to his face to draw him to her for a kiss, then she grinned triumphantly. "We're the hottest!"

"Yeah. We've still got it. Even without all the sneaking."

"Oh yeah. Um, I was thinking though. I really meant it when I said I missed that."

"I know. Me too."

"You do? Well, do you think we could do it again – you know just pretend we were never found out and –"

He kissed her again. "Oh, absolutely. Let's do that. We'll make it our next weekend thing. We could take turns …"

"Yes!" Now her eyes were shining almost madly, and the next thing he knew he was lying on his back again with her on top and straddling him. After some token protest on his side and good-natured shushing and cuffing on hers they settled against each other once more, fitting their bodies into each other. As he felt their breath-rates slowing down and her body relaxing under his hands, Chandler realized, for what felt like the thousandth's time, that he was truly content.