He had come back to her. On his own impulse, without coercion, because he wanted to. Though technically he hadn't come exactly to make up – actually that silly goofhead had thought a stupid fight like that already meant that their relationship was over. But he had come to her nonetheless, had indeed come to her instead of moping around sulking and waiting until she came to him. True, it had taken him longer than she had thought, but she only had herself to blame for that. If they hadn't needed her so badly at work, he would have tried to meet her the night before and she – they – wouldn't have had to endure another night apart.

That night had been bad, even though she had worked very late and come home almost dead on her feet. And as tired as she was, she had only been able to sleep when she had promised herself to go to him if he hadn't come by noon. Or well, ten-ish. Sometime around that at least.

But he had beaten her to it, by a good half hour even, and he had been everything she had hoped – remorseful, sobered, reasonable, and mostly blaming himself for their lost weekend. He wasn't mad at her, or at least not so much that he couldn't tolerate her any longer, couldn't stand to be with her anymore. That she had been afraid of the most, that she had driven him off with her obsession and stubbornness, her inability to give in just so he could have a good time. During the long lonely hours in her bed she had convinced herself that nobody could ever stand to be with her for long, that she was really impossible to live with. And that her decision to wait for him to come to her was wrong, that she should have called, should have apologized first. That she had thrown away the best thing that had happened to her in years – hell, had ever happened to her – like garbage, kicked it away just because of a fit of rage.

But he had come and now they could go on, write off the lost weekend and take up where they had left off. Her relief had been so great that she had laughed a little too hard at his conviction that they had broken up when it wasn't a laughing matter at all. She had nearly lost him after all. But he had been so cute with his naïve belief that he had screwed up so bad she would never want him back. Of course she had wanted him back. If he could accept her as she was, still wanted her inspite of everything, she could do the same for him. Actually this was the only way this could work.

Everything was alright again. She had him back. They had made up, and sealed the make-up in their usual way – twice actually, the first time on the floor just under the couch and the second time after they had somehow found the energy to collect their clothes and stumble into her bedroom where they had fallen on the bed and picked up pretty much exactly where they had left off earlier. Now they were cuddling in her bed under the covers, with the room in semi-darkness due to the drawn blinds that kept out the afternoon glare. Chandler was resting his head on her chest, eyes closed, lazily nibbling at her breasts, while she played with his hair and stroked his back and shoulders.

"Chandler …?"

"Mmmmmmmmmhhh ….?"

"Are you sleepy?"

"Mmmmmh ... a little …. Why? Are you?"

She giggled. "A little …."

"Mmmmmmmh. This is so nice. So peaceful … quiet … alone … the whole day for us …"

"Not the whole day. Rachel will be back in … um, wow, five hours …"

"As I said, the whole day." He kissed her on her neck just above her clavicle and slid his hand down her side to her hip. Closing her eyes she sank back against the pillow and cradled his head against her chest while his hand started to roam again.

"Actually … I wanted to do some vacuuming … ah … and some … uh, oh god … cooking …"

"Really …?"

"Well, not right now I guess, but …"

"And what else?"

"Um. Actually I can't remember. Aaahh … yes, laundry, I really need to do that …"

"Laundry, huh? I thought we were doing that already … ouch, okay, yeah, me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm almost down to my emergency underwear."

"What's that?"

"You don't want to know."

"Oh. Well, if we keep pushing it off, I guess I will get to know it some time."

Chandler grinned and pushed himself up to get on top of her. "Okay, we can do laundry today – the real kind. But first the other kind." He slid his hands under her back and started to kiss his way down from her neck to her breasts and downward to her navel. She closed her eyes and buried her fingers in his hair, her breath-rate speeding up the further down he got, but still determined to draw out the foreplay to the last or at least until he couldn't hold out any longer. He had hardly arrived at her inner thighs however, his hot breath tickling her labia, when she started squirming and twisting already, drawing him up again urgently and wrapping her legs around him, her hunger for him, for having him inside her, and most of all feeling him push into her becoming too great. And of course he realized it at once and held back deliberately, teasing her until she clenched her hands on his back and buttocks, screaming with impatience. When he did enter her after what seemed like an eternity, it seemed it to her that he did it as slowly as he could, even drawing back again a few times until she was crazy with desire, screaming and shuddering, and at last pulling his head down and kissing him almost violently, mashing their lips together.

.

It had been a good day. A great Monday in fact after that disastrous Saturday and sad Sunday. They had made up. They had had sex. And more sex. And after that, yet even more sex. Great, hot, wonderful sex too each and every time. Then they had showered together, with a lot of groping and teasing of course, and had so much fun at it. Afterwards she had cooked them a meal and had let him help – or at least watch and feel her up while she cooked. After they had eaten they had rested a while, lazily making out on the couch and even napping a little. And finally they had collected all their accumulated laundry – which almost amounted to four big baskets – and gone down into the cellar to get it all washed. And made out a little more on the old easy chair while it did.

By the time they had finished and returned to their apartments Rachel had come back from work, in much better spirits now that she had talked with Ross and also managed to make up with Phoebe again who had been in a sulk ever since her 'lifting-out' remark the day before. After supper Chandler and Joey came over to hang with them, and she put out popcorn and cookies for everybody. Ross was working late, but Phoebe would probably come over soon, and then they all could have a nice game or watch a movie.

And later, after they had all left, Chandler would sneak over again for another go. Yes, life was pretty perfect again right now. Her laundry was done, so she had enough towels again, Rachel had calmed down, Joey had high hopes about the audition he'd been at the whole day, and Chandler was sitting right where she could look at him every now and then, exchange hot little furtive glances that made her tingle and prickle all over. Now if she only could find her eyelash curler to straighten out those lashes that had gotten stuck again …

And here was Phoebe, earlier than she had thought.

"Oh hey, Monica, I heard you saw Donald Trump at your convention."

Right, the only nearly positive thing in that awful weekend. "Yeah, I saw him waiting for an elevator." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Chandler start at that and frown, but there was nothing she could do about it. And that damn eyelash curler wasn't in her makeup bag either – wasn't anywhere to be found in fact. And she hated borrowing anything from Rachel, it only gave her an excuse to borrow - and then lose – things from her. But it was no use, she knew for a fact that Phoebe didn't have one …

"Hey, Rach, can I borrow your eyelash curler, I think I lost mine."

"Sure it's in the bathroom." Rachel said and right then Joey started to act really strange. The first thing she noticed was Chandler's horrified expression, then how Joey's eyes had gotten so big they seemed to almost pop out, just before he uttered little strangled cries and started flailing his arms about. For a split second she thought he was choking on popcorn – again – and wondered whose turn it was to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on him this time, then she noticed that he was pointing at her and Chandler in turn and it finally dawned on her what had happened. Oh no. Joey of all people had found them out. And Rachel and Phoebe were already staring at him puzzled and frowning, oh no, it was finished, they were screwed …

But then Chandler, bless him, swung into action.

"Joey, can I talk to you for a second?" He pulled him up and half dragged, half pushed his struggling and spluttering roommate into her bedroom. Monica shook off her daze and hurried after them, shooting an apologetic glance at Phoebe and Rachel still sitting bemusedly on the couch before she closed the door behind her. Chandler had tackled Joey on her bed and was holding him down, desperately pressing his hand on his mouth to shut him up, while Joey squirmed and fought.

"Uhhh, oh, ummmmoohh ..."

"Nononono …" But just as she arrived at the bed ready to take over, Joey stopped struggling and Chandler slowly released his mouth, a resigned expression on his face.

"Yes." His voice sent goose bumps down her spine, it sounded so unaccustomed quiet and serious from him. "Yes." He let Joey go and got up from the bed, while Joey rolled over and sat up, staring wildly from one to the other.

"YOU?! AND YOU?!"

Yes, oh god yes, and now that the cat was out of the bag, there was no return, no way out …

"Yes, but you cannot tell anyone! No one knows!" she pleaded anxiously.

"How?! When?!" Joey seemed close to an apoplexy.

"It happened in London." Chandler replied as calmly as possible.

"IN LONDON?!" They shushed him desperately, hoping that Rachel and Phoebe weren't listening at the door. Chandler again tried to explain as calmly as possible.

"The reason we didn't tell anyone was because we didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

"But it is a big deal!" Joey was having none of it. "I have to tell someone!"

Typical. Exactly what they didn't need. They had to push him back on the bed almost forcibly.

"No-no-no-no-no! You can't!"

"Please, please, now, I know this is hard ..." she begged.

"It is! It hurts." Joey stared at her reproachfully. Oh god, how could they shut him up? It wasn't fair, they had been so careful! Well, almost.

"We know. Please? Please?!" she pleaded with him. "We just don't want to deal with telling everyone, okay? Just promise you won't tell!" Maybe Joey in the know wouldn't be such a bad thing after all, once they convinced him to keep quiet. At least now he seemed ready to consider it at least, though he was still struggling hard with the concept, hitching his breath and wringing his hands. But finally -

"All right!" Oh thank god, they had done it. She saw Chandler's shoulders slump with relief and knew exactly how he felt. Joey looked them over again and shook his head.

"Man, this is unbelievable! I mean, it's great, but …"

Yes it was. She saw a huge smile appearing on Chandler's face at that and her heart almost gave out.

"I know, it's great!" She walked right into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck, her body molding into his as they kissed. It was unbelievable, it was great, it was a big deal, and it was also right. So very right.

"Aww, I don't want to see that!" Joey protested half-heartedly. Well, he would have to get used to it now, like it or not. They even took their time over the kiss – after all it had to be at least three hours since their last one – and somehow it even added to the thrill to have Joey watching and making faces at them.

"Hey, you two, cut it out, will you?" He actually glowered at them, putting his hands on his hips, and that made her break the kiss, though very reluctantly. Chandler kept her close and she snuggled against him.

"Sorry Joe." Of course even Joey could see that Chandler wasn't sorry at all. If anything his wide grin belied the fact, and the way he kept squeezing her arm. Joey scowled at them.

"Look at you two! Man, I can't believe it. It's been what, two months?"

"Six weeks" they said together in a perfect chorus and then laughed, gazing at each other besotted while Joey threw up his arms in despair.

"Six weeks! For six weeks you've been – you had – you did and you – oh my god! And no one noticed? No one knows?!"

"Sshhhh, not so loud! Keep it down, will you? No, nobody knows yet. Except you now."

"Oh man ..!" he groaned. "But why?"

"Why? What do you mean?" she asked innocently. Joey threw up his hands again.

"Why now? You were friends for so long, why – how – I really don't get it!"

"That's okay, Joe." Chandler was trying hard to keep a straight face. "I don't get it either." He looked down at her smiling and she smiled back. "Yeah, me neither."

Joey spluttered and put his hands to his head. "But come on ..." But she cut him short. "I really think we should discuss this later, okay? Phoebe and Rachel are waiting, and Joey – they cannot know about us, okay? Please?"

When they emerged from the bedroom again, Phoebe and Rachel were still sitting on the couch, seemingly unconcerned, their faces carefully blank, although they must have been bursting with curiosity. Neither of them asked though and neither Chandler nor Joey offered any explanation. Joey kept his eyes down in fact and dropped heavily into his chair again, with Chandler hovering anxiously nearby. It almost got too much for her and she hurried into the bathroom with a mumbled excuse, biting her lips to keep from giggling.

In the bathroom she stared at herself in the mirror, taking deep breaths to calm herself. They had been found out. Their little bubble of secrecy and hiding had been burst. They were no longer the only ones in the know, now someone else knew about them, would watch and judge them from a third person's perspective. Their affair was no longer their own, to do with as they pleased, continue or end it at their leisure. Whatever they did, they would have to explain and justify to Joey who was now a part of it. It was as scary a thought as it was liberating too. And somehow it even added weight and meaning to their relationship, made it more real. Especially after they had come so close to ending it on that fateful weekend.

When she felt calm enough to face the others again and left the bathroom, Phoebe had gotten a round of Mad Libs going, and was already scribbling on her pad with gusto. Monica took up her pad and sat on the easy chair that Joey had vacated, where she could steal furtive glances at Chandler who sat next to her at the near end of the couch. But as much as she loved Mad Libs – or any game they all played together – she was still too upset to enjoy it now. In fact all she wanted now was to be alone with Chandler again, to talk about Joey finding them out with him, and of course, do other things … Her eyes met Chandler's once more for just a short hot moment and she was sure that he was thinking along the same lines.

And Phoebe cheerfully making up her own rules of the game didn't make it easier for her to enjoy it.

"The most popular Phoebe in tennis is called the overhand Phoebe. And if you win, you must slap your opponent on the Phoebe and say, 'Hi, Phoebe!'"

And just why did everybody have to laugh and go along when she had it all wrong? Did she really have to endure all that when it wasn't even played right – oh, wait, there was an idea.

"Oh that's cute! We really all enjoyed it." She smiled as pleasantly as possible. "But you know, it doesn't count." When she caught Chandler's glance she quickly winked at him, praying that he would understand.

"Count for what?" Phoebe actually looked blank.

"Count in our heads as - as good Mad Libs."

Chandler made a face and got up, putting down his pad, and the others followed suit.

"I guess I'm done." "Fun's over!" Even Rachel sighed and headed for the door. Monica tried her best to appear agitated, while secretly heaving a sigh of relief.

"Wait-wait, guys! If we follow the rules, it's still fun and it means something!"

But they all took off as one, trudging out the door and leaving her alone. Just as she had hoped.

"Guys, rules are good! Rules help control the fun!" Just in case they still could hear her, she threw down her pad and sighed loudly – seemingly with frustration, but really with relief.

.

Much later that night she was with Chandler in his bedroom when Joey came back and after a while knocked on the door.

"Um, guys …?" Chandler sighed and rolled his eyes, getting up reluctantly.

"What is it Joe?" He put on his bathrobe while Monica wrapped the covers around her.

"Um, nothing, but – could you turn it down … just a little … I mean –"

Chandler opened the top half of the door and glared at his roommate. "Turn down what?!" Joey caught sight of Monica and actually had the grace to blush.

"I mean, I'm just trying to sleep …" he mumbled, cringing under Chandler's sardonic look. There was a heavy pause and then Chandler sighed and turned to his nightstand, getting something out of the top drawer and handing it over.

"Here you are, Joey. Try those."

"What's that?!"

"Ear plugs" said Chandler while Monica started to giggle helplessly. "Trust me, they really work. Oh, and you're welcome to them. Sleep tight." And with that he closed the door again.