A/N: Whoa! Thank you, thank you for all the kind words, subscriptions and addition to favorites! Albeit a little delay here and there, I'd never leave this fic unfinished.

And finally! The episode that we all love!

This chapter covers the events of the episode 'The one with all the Kips'. Enjoy reading! (I love the 'you? And… and you?' coming from Joey :))

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own anything. The dialogues from the show aren't mine.

That Thing Called Love

Chapter 9

Glancing at Rachel out of the corner of her eyes, waiting until she was out of earshot, Monica leaned in and whispered to Chandler, who sat across from her in the kitchen chair. "Around three. Is that OK?"

He didn't look up. His attention didn't waver from her outstretched arms on the table. He watched in fascination as the blue vein on her wrist pulsed from beneath her pale skin. He placed his fingertips on it. It'd been twelve hours since he'd felt her heartbeat against his own. For some reason, he was incredibly tempted to press his lips against her wrist, against the pulsating vein, but that sort of action would only garner them unwanted attention, or in this case, Rachel's attention.

"Chandler?" Monica tapped on his knuckles with her other hand, looking at him curiously. "Everything alright?"

"Yes." He retracted his hand, smiling. "Yeah, three is fine."

"Great," she smiled back, aware that Rachel would still not be able to hear what they were talking. "So, I was thinking, maybe I could wear that black negligee I bought last week," she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, her voice just a tad flirtatious.

He watched her, enamored by the soft, teasing smile on her lips, still captivated by the throbbing blue vein. "Now, that is a mental image I can live with." He leaned in, smiling lightly, trailing a finger up her wrist, feeling her pulse quicken beneath his fingers. "Can't wait," he murmured, peering into her eyes.

He'd waited for twelve hours, what's another eight?

~.~

Easier said than done. Just fifteen minutes away from 3 AM, Chandler was getting antsy.

During the innumerable nights when he'd been kept awake by Joey and the thin wall that separated him from Joey, he'd mastered the art of making hand shadow puppets, and he actually used to enjoy doing it. But now, 'shadow puppets' were of least help.

Things were good the way they were. He had given up trying to make sense of what was happening between them. Whatever it was, he was sure that it was the best thing that had happened to him in awhile, if not in his whole life.

Sleeping together made them happy, but keeping it a secret was draining his energy. He was pretty sure that she was getting tired of the 3'o clock routine, too.

His pillowcases smelled like her shampoo, the one he stole from her on occasion. His bed smelled like her. He buried his face in the pillow, inhaling deeply. Lavender and rose. Not very different from the smell of her skin. Monica in black negligee. Not helping, either. Just a few more minutes, horny boy.

Maybe some milk would help. He'd been up since twelve, and his dinner was long digested. Milk would definitely help. He got off the bed, and left for his kitchen, carrying the digital clock from his nightstand with him, noticing that it was exactly 3 AM. He glanced at the door to their apartment, willing it to creak open. Any minute now. He opened one of the kitchen drawers, pulled out a mug and placed it on the counter, knowing pretty well that he might not actually get to the drinking part. He was right.

He opened the door when he heard the mild knock, smiling widely as he did so. True to her words, he could see the black lacy garment peeking from beneath her robe. "Hey," he whispered, pushing the door close as she kissed him softly.

Even their kisses had grown into something different. They'd become more relaxed and leisurely, softer and deeper. She pulled away, smiling, both of them starting towards his room, his milk completely forgotten.

A second later, he pushed her away from him forcefully. She wondered why, until the 'why' turned the lights on. Uh oh. She grasped the handle of the foosball table for support, her brain blanking out.

"Monica?" Joey rubbed the sleep off his eyes as he looked at the couple, in confusion. "What time is it?"

On an ordinary night, nothing short of a full-blown nuclear holocaust could wake Joey up before 9 AM. For the love of all that is shiny, bright and sharp, why would he choose this night to become an early riser? It was beyond her.

Chandler pushed the clock into the sink, before it caught Joey's attention. "Uh… nine," he stuttered, thanking Heaven that it was just Joey. But one glaring problem was, unless they were living in the South Pole, 9'o clock would never look the way it looked now.

Joey was smart enough to figure that out. He looked even more confused as he turned to look out the window. "But it's dark out," he pointed out.

OK, come up with something quick! Because it's 9 PM, not AM? Because it's solar eclipse?

Thankfully, Monica came up with something that was even better. "Well that's because you always sleep to noon, silly!" she laughed as he mentally praised her quick thinking. "This is what 9 looks like!"

Joey nodded his understanding, and he headed off to the bathroom to freshen up, in order to watch the sunrise.

Chandler thanked Heaven again that it was just Joey.

~.~

Chandler pushed his bedroom door close behind him, grinning as he pulled Monica into his arms. "I missed you." A little more than a month of sneaking around, they'd finally reached a point where it was alright to say I missed you.

"I missed you, too." She giggled when he went to work on the sash of her robe, without further ado. "Easy, tiger. Neither I nor the black negligee are going anywhere."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he shook his head, pausing to admire the way she looked. She was pushing the robe off his shoulders and pulling his shirt up and over his head. He leaned down to lift the hem of her nightdress slowly. "I am afraid the negligee's gotta go." He pulled it over her head, his hands wandering leisurely along her bare skin.

"I am not complaining," she murmured as she pulled his boxers down, tilting her head to one side when his kisses trailed from her lips to her neck. She moved along with him when he backed her towards the bed, but frowned as she lay down on it. "Will Joey be alright sleeping on the toilet?"

He lay down on the bed, beside her, and pulled away from her to stare at her in incredulity. "Is that what you wanna talk about right now? Joey sleeping on the toilet?"

She shrugged uncomfortably. She, for one, would rather die than sleep on a toilet. "I mean, he's sleeping on the toilet."

He shook his head, smiling. "I don't know." He shrugged. "He was up all night, watching 'CasaSpanka'. He's probably too tired to even realize that he's asleep on the toilet." His fingers moved along her spine as he leaned in to kiss her. When she pushed him onto his back and moved on top of him, he knew she no longer cared about Joey's choice of sleeping arrangement. His fingers tangling in her hair as he held her close to him, he pulled away slightly. "Anymore questions?"

"No," she whispered back, reaching for his lips again, her tongue caressing his in a soft, sensual glide, her heart thudding against his.

Maybe a weekend away wouldn't be so bad, after all.

~.~

Walking hand-in-hand towards their hotel room in Jersey, Monica was reminded of the time they'd tried to have sex for the one last time in London. She still couldn't believe that they'd been interrupted each and every time they had been about to.

But now, there would be no interruptions, just lovemaking without any hindrance. She smiled widely, their encounter with Donald Trump in the elevator not even contributing to half of her excitement. "I can't believe we're doing this," she shook her head, smiling up at him.

"I know." He lifted their entwined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles, smiling. It felt surreal. Back at their place, four hours of privacy was the most they could hope for. Two whole days to be spent alone together and away from the other four felt like a dream come true. He just hoped she wouldn't insist on sanitizing the bed before they got into it.

~.~

Chandler decided that having to choose between a romantic weekend away and a high-speed car chase was hard, as he pulled his bag into his apartment and closed the door behind him. He still couldn't believe he'd called her 'mom', though. Shouldn't he have known by now that she hated it when someone's unintended (or intended) remarks implied that she was old? After all, a drunken guy's statement about how she looked like Ross's mother had been the catalyst to their interlude that had lasted a little more than a month.

And maybe things weren't over between them, yet. Maybe he could make her see that her anal retentive habits had contributed to the disruption of their rendezvous as much as his own sudden, childish urge to watch a high-speed car chase.

"Damn Rollos!" he muttered and threw the candy away from his seat. Shouldn't Joey stick to his own Barcalounger?

"Hey, you're back!" Joey entered the living room, happy to see his friend. Well, at least someone was happy to see him. Monica sure wouldn't be. "How was your conference?"

Does he have to bring that up? "It was terrible." He sighed. "I fought with-" he paused, not knowing what to say. How about colleagues? Yeah, OK. "my colleagues."

"Oh, so your weekend was a total bust?" Joey asked him sympathetically.

"Uh, no, I got to see Donald Trump waiting for an elevator," he told Joey, who seemed impressed by it and told him a nice, short story about how Donald Trump had a private glass elevator made by Otis, at the Taj Mahal. His dear old friend knew nothing about the tourist spots in NY, but he knew about the glass elevators in Agra, India. "What kinds of stuff do you know?" Chandler asked him in disbelief.

"Hi!" Monica entered their apartment at that moment, smiling at Joey, but not at him. "Chandler, can I talk to you outside for just a second?"

What does she wanna talk about? Maybe she wants to apologize? But judging by the look on her face, that seemed like the last thing she wanted to do. Remember, this is still not over. Don't let her go without a fight.

"Hey, you're back too!" Joey smiled back. "How was your chef thing?"

"Oh, it was awful." She replied instantly, turning towards Chandler with a scornful look on her face. "I guess some people just don't appreciate really good food."

Oh, yeah? You wanna play it that way? "Well, maybe it was the kind of food that tasted good at first but then made everybody vomit and have diarrhea." He shrugged, as though that could be a possible explanation.

She glowered at him for a second before she pointed at the hallway, motioning for him to come outside. "Chandler?"

"Monica?" he mimicked her petulantly as he got off his chair and followed her outside, leaving Joey to wonder what the two could possibly want to talk about in private.

"Okay, I'd like to know how much the room was because I'd like to pay my half," she told him, tearing up a check leaf from her checkbook.

"Okay, fine, $300," he replied nonchalantly. Well, this is really over. She wants to pay me back, which means that it is really, really over. Aren't you going to fight for her?

"Three hundred dollars!" she looked up at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, just think of it as $25 per room." That's not the right kind of fighting.

"Urghh!" she grunted as she handed him the check.

Joey poked his head out the door, his curiosity piqued from the all the grunting going on. "What are you guys woofing about?"

Monica stared at Chandler with pure contempt and answered the question with, "Chandler stole a twenty from my purse!"

That explained all the private-talks. "Noooo!" Joey exclaimed, his eyes widening rather comically. "Y'know what? Now that I think about it, I constantly find myself without twenties and you always have lots!"

Chandler didn't know what was worse, Monica spreading horrible rumors about him or the fact that Joey had gone through his wallet.

"I am watching you," Joey told him in his best NYPD voice and went back inside.

Chandler stared at the door, nonplussed, before he turned to see Monica smirking with victory. He sighed, wanting to make her see that this was just a small blip in their five-week-long liaison. "Look, I am sorry the weekend didn't go well. I know that watching television is not exactly the kind of thing that most people would want to do on a romantic weekend away, but I just thought it'd be fun." Changing rooms for every fifteen minutes wasn't such a turn-on, either, but he left that part out, not wanting to make her pissed off than she already was.

"Fun!" she exclaimed, looking at him incredulously. "Seriously? What are you? Twelve?"

OK, she's not making this 'fighting back' thing any easier.

"If that was your idea of fun, you could've stayed home and had it with Joey," she said, all the while glaring at him.

"Speaking of fun, you might as well have brought a bottle of Windex to the hotel and cleaned all the windows!" he snapped. "Y'know, your desperate need to control every little thing is cute when you're living across the hall. But when we're sleeping on the same bed," he paused, shaking his head, before he hissed in a loud whisper, "not so cute!"

Her cheeks turned a light pink with anger. Their eyes locked, starting off a staring contest. "If it bothers you so much, we don't have to sleep on the same bed." She shook her head, her nostrils flaring.

"Great!" he shrugged and turned to leave, opening his apartment door, just as she opened hers. "Oh, Monica?" he called out for her. When she turned back with a look of hers that he'd never been fond of, he asked her, "I am sure a lot of rooms in that hotel had two separate beds, would you maybe wanna go there again some other time and reject a few of those rooms?"

She gave him the Ross-patented fist banging thing before she went inside her apartment and closed the door, with a loud bang.

Oh, it's definitely over now.

~.~

His bed still smelled like her. He pulled the sheets over his face, wanting to get her out of his mind, wanting sleep to take over his Monica-addled brain.

Ever since their first night together in London, this was the only night they'd slept on separate beds, and that just meant one thing. 'Monica and Chandler' had come to an end.

At one point during this fling, he'd imagined that it'd turn into something more. He'd even hoped that it'd turn into something more.

But he should have seen this coming. Everything that made him happy had always been short-lived. Be it parents or girlfriends.

And maybe, it was for the best. He still remembered what they'd all gone through when Ross and Rachel had broken up, and he still shuddered at the memory of being locked-up in Monica's room for hours together, waiting for them to stop fighting, waiting for them to kiss and make-up. But happy endings don't come easy.

He won't be able to go through what Ross and Rachel had gone through. He cannot lose Monica or what he'd had with her, even before London. Monica's friendship mattered to him more that any stupid fling.

He'd have to meet her the next day and warn her about the fact that Joey knew that he'd hooked-up with some girl during the weekend. He'd also have to tell her that he was OK with being just friends and he wouldn't be able to survive if he lost her as one.

It shouldn't have ended this way, not with a fight that seemed so juvenile, even to him, but every good thing had to come to an end, and 'Monica and Chandler' was no exception.

~.~

He rehearsed his speech for the one last time, as he opened the door to apartment 20, hoping to find Monica alone. "Hey."

She turned around on hearing his voice, and stood up to face him. "Hi," she said softly, feeling a little bit awkward as she remembered the things they'd said in the hallway.

He realized a second too late that he didn't have an opening line. "I just came over to drop off…" he trailed off searching his hands for something, but shrugged on finding that he didn't have a single thing with him. "Nothing."

So he was there to apologize. She smiled as he bit his nails in nervousness, and waited for him to start the conversation.

"So the weekend kinda sucked, huh?" he asked her, smiling wryly.

'Kinda sucked' was an understatement. 'Sucked big time' would have been more like it. But nonetheless, she agreed, nodding. "Yeah, it did." She waited for him to say 'I am sorry, Mon. I'll make it up to you, I promise,' but frowned when he said something else.

"So, I guess this is over," he shrugged again, smiling at her uncertainly. He'd never been good at this.

What? She looked at him, clueless. "What?"

"Well, you and me," he explained. "I mean, it had to end sometime."

She looked even more perplexed. "Why exactly?"

"Because of the weekend," he told her, as though he was stating the obvious, "We had a fight."

"Chandler, that's crazy!" she exclaimed, wanting to pull him into a hug. He looked like a little lost boy. "If you give up every time you'd have a fight with someone you'd never be with anyone longer than… Ohhh!"

A sudden moment of epiphany, as they both realized that what she'd stated was precisely the reason behind many a broken heart. One fight didn't mean that it was the end. He turned back towards her, glad for some reason that he'd attained this particular nirvana with her.

"So, this isn't over?" He smiled widely, the feeling of surreality returning to surface. There was still a chance for 'Monica and Chandler'.

"You're so cute," she laughed on seeing the hopeful look on his face. The poor guy had really thought that things had come to an end between them. She walked around the couch so that she could wrap her arms around him and tell him that it indeed wasn't the end. "No. No, it was a fight. You deal with it and move on! It's nothing to freak out about," she assured him.

"Really?" He grinned widely, looking relieved. "OK, great!"

"Welcome to an adult relationship!" she told him, before she leaned in to kiss him.

His grin got wider. That was the first time anyone had ever used the word 'adult' in a positive sense, in a sentence that dealt with him. Hold it for a second! Did she say 'relationship'? He stopped her instantly, and drew back. "We're in a relationship?"

He looked shocked, even a little scared. But having known him for all these years, she'd had an idea as to what to expect from him when things got serious. But she hoped he wouldn't freak out. That he wouldn't run away from this. From her. She smiled up at him softly and nodded. "I am afraid so."

"OK," he murmured and leaned in to kiss her, his heart beating wildly. He felt as though he was kissing her for the first time. It felt as exhilarating as it'd felt the first time.

She smiled against his lips and broke the kiss by pulling back to look into his eyes. "You really thought that that was the end of us?" she stroked his cheek, kissing him softly, again.

"Yeah," he nodded, tightening his arms around her, hoping to never let her go. "You're kinda the best thing that ever happened to me. I thought I screwed everything up." He kissed the side of her head, wondering why he'd said that. He would never usually reveal such a thing to anyone. But when she sighed contentedly against his shoulder, he didn't regret saying it. "I missed you last night," he told her, kissing her eyelids.

"I missed you, too," she whispered back, her fingers playing with the hair on his nape. "I was a little mad at you yesterday," she added, as a reason behind her absence in his bedroom, the previous night.

He smiled, kissing her on the forehead. "I am sorry the weekend sucked, Mon. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

She giggled on noticing that he'd said the exact same thing that she'd imagined he'd say. When he cocked his eyebrow quizzically, she shook her head. "You promise to take me someplace where the carpet doesn't smell, the glass doesn't have any lipstick stains on it and where there is no television for you to watch fast getaways?"

"I promise." He chuckled, nodding, forgetting to tell her about his conversation with Joey, about the eyelash curler, not knowing that it was going to come back and bite him in the butt. When she was smiling at him like the way she was now, he couldn't really be blamed for forgetting anything.

~.~

For as long as Chandler had known Joey, he had realized one thing even during their very first phone conversation. Joey was not the brightest bulb in the tanning bed. From all the subsequent years of a friendship that had evolved into something so close that they were practically brothers, he'd realized another thing. Joey was as concealed as a Sarong wrap.

Why Joey had chosen that particular moment to put two and two together, for the first time in his life, still eluded him. They would be lucky if Joey managed to keep it a secret for a few more months.

Joey had been shocked, to say the least, on finding out about him and Monica. 'You? And… and You?'

And now, he was staring at Chandler, after having asked him for the seventeenth time, 'You and Monica?' He sounded genuinely astonished, much to Chandler's annoyance.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked in exasperation. He was waiting for Monica to come any minute, knowing that Rachel would have just gone to bed.

"I mean, she's hot." Joey shrugged, justifying his disbelief. When Chandler agreed, nodding, he grinned widely, almost lewdly, before he asked him, "So, is she as kinky in bed as I imagine her to be?" When Chandler glared at him so very intensely, he visibly backed-off, stuttering, "Hey- hey- hey, that's how my imagination works. I am a guy!"

Chandler stared at him incredulously. "What am I? A duck?"

Fortunately for Joey, Monica entered their apartment at that precise moment. "Hey, guys."

"Hey, Mon!" Joey jumped up, relieved for the interruption. He frowned a second later. "Wait. So, have you two been doing it in the room right next to mine for like a month now?" he asked, wanting an explanation for all the weird noises that he'd heard even through his deep sleep, lately.

"It's been a little more than a month, Joe." Monica smiled, entwining her hand with Chandler's. He pulled her closer for a kiss, his left hand brushing against her cheek.

"You're kissing again!" Joey whined, sounding like the kid from 'The Princess Bride'. When the kiss went on, deeper and more passionate, he shook his head in disgust. "Oh, no, no, no. No live sex show," he muttered walking towards his bedroom as fast as he could. This one day would be enough to scar him for life.

Chandler drew back, kissing her lips two more times, lovingly. "I could get used to this, y'know?" he murmured against her lips before he kissed her again.

"Well, that's sort of the point of being a couple," she smiled as she pulled him towards his bedroom.

He grinned widely, following her. They were a couple now.

She leaned back on his bed, pulling him on top of her, watching him as he brushed a strand of her hair back from her face. "Chandler?"

"Yeah, Mon." He brushed his lips against hers softly, and pulled back, waiting for her to continue.

"You're kinda the best thing that ever happened to me, too," she whispered, pulling him closer for another kiss, feeling him smile against her lips, feeling his heart thud against her own.

~.~.~

A/N: Whatever I do, this story ends up being a tad more romantic than I intend it to be. I hope no one's complaining! And yeah, I just stole a line from 'Princess Diaries' :D

The average word count of every chapter that I write is at least 3,000. Maybe I am a slow writer, but each chapter takes me two days to complete. So, for any delay between updates, for any series of mine, I blame my inability to write chapters that are less than 2,000 words.

And Emily J, I'll definitely be writing a chapter on 'TOW everybody finds out'. I mean, who doesn't love that episode? :D

I think the next chapter might cover the 'The swing kings' Mondler date, but I am not sure. Let's wait and see ;)