AN: Two more chapters left after this.
I'd personally thank everyone who's kept up with my lonely drabbling this long, if I could.

Enjoy.

He took her hand from his neck, and brought it to his lips.

The silken skin he had only dreamed about, time and time again, graced him in the fabrication of reality. Like usual, there were no words to describe the feelings he gained from each touch, from each breath. They were unique, like snowflakes; like her, they pleased him in every way possible. It was easy to remember what it felt like, but it didn't compare to actually feeling it.

"Honey." Rachel's voice gently cracked in his ear, to which she promptly cleared her throat. She then kissed the corner of his mouth, and locked her arms back around his neck.

"Hey, sweetums!" Before Ross could reply with a loving gesture, as per usual protocol, Chandler sped over to the couple, yelling, coffee in hand. His smiled at his own interjection spread like a cancer; both Ross and Rachel smiled at his light antic as he handed Rachel the cup. Once he sat back down, next to Monica, Ross turned to his beloved, smiling as though he had only just discovered her.

"How was your, uh, nap?" He perked his eyebrows as he accentuated the last said 'nap', awkwardly masking his inability to find a better word.

"Good. Had a dream about you."

"Oh?"

"Mhm." Rachel squeezed him tightly, still half-awake, therefore unable to form a coherent sentence. She was never a morning person, even though it was closer to noon; this didn't stop the groggyness that usually came with it, though.

"Was it good?" Ross soured his face a little, hoping that this wasn't a joke she was playing; while he would've appreciated the fact that she was feeling better, he didn't want something as meaningful as a dream, about him, to be bad. It was going on the same track as when she had a dream about having sex with Chandler; something he absolutely hated.

"Of course." She pouted after hearing his blatant disbelief; she would never trick him in such a dirty way as to play with his heart, especially not after the past weeks' events. Why would he even ask such thing?

"Get a room." Before either of them could continue, Chandler interrupted their embrace with sarcasm from across the coffee table. He smiled at the two, who then smiled back, after some initial embarrassment. However, while Rachel simply grinned, Ross was formulating a comeback, which didn't take very long.

"You should talk, groping my sister." He looked at Monica with false disgust, which, combined with Chandler's jab at the couple, made her blush. Her eyes quickly went to the floor, hoping to stay out of whatever may come.

"Hey! That is not groping!" Chandler lashed out at this, shoving his hand in front of Ross's face after pointing to a shocked Monica. His ultra-defensive behavior scared everyone around him, mainly because they didn't know if he was being serious or not.

"Whatever you say, man. Just don't get too touchy-feely." Ross snickered at Chandler's outburst, but remained serious enough to dispel any more anger by putting his hands up.

"Or what?"

"I-I'll kick your ass, is what." Ross did his best to sound grave and foreboding in the silence that briefly came; little did he know, he sounded about as threatening as a drowsy hamster. It took him awhile to understand this, and, by the time he did, everyone else in the room was laughing; Phoebe's was, as usual, the loudest.

Retreating into the comfort of the couch, Ross crossed his arms in defeat. Rachel tried to reassure him that he could in fact beat Chandler up, but whether or not this was true or not remained to be disputed. Ross however, believed her, and silently played the scenario out in his head many times of how he would have won the last argument. His grin acquired looks of confusion from Chandler and Monica, but Ross was oblivious.

Finishing the last of her coffee, Rachel found herself more or less wide-awake. She plopped herself next to her boyfriend, and solemnly rested her head into his shoulder. So many things returned to her mind, speeding through like Manhattan at rush hour. Soon, he would ask her to marry him; overwhelming, to say the least. Even though she had kind of expected it weeks before their breakup, to hear it out of Ross's mouth now made her knees buckle; with what, Rachel didn't know.

Of course, she would say yes. She had a million reasons to, and none to say otherwise. This was Ross; the love of her life. The one person whom she could count on to support her in the darkest times, no matter how taxing they may be. The one person she could give herself to, in body, mind, and soul. The one person who would give his life for her, without hesitation.

Yet, something kept Rachel on edge. Perhaps, in the most mundane possible way, she wasn't ready for this. Why, she did not know. Everything was good now. Spring was right around the corner, but love was already in the air. They were happy. Their friends were happy. There was, once again, no reason for this doubt that built up inside of her. She assumed that she was just paranoid; that everything felt too good to be true, when it really wasn't. This was going to happen, one way or another. Rachel was ready.

In the end, there would be no question of her answer. She wanted to be with Ross for the rest of her life. A couple of loose thoughts were not going to stop her from being happy. After all, she managed to come this far, wading through rivers of despair; how hard was it to go a little further?

The question called for an answer; one she could not give at the moment. Her stomach began rumbling like an earthquake, sending shockwaves through the rest of her frail body. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn that she had switched bodies with Joey. Deciding that her brain needed food, Rachel quickly pecked Ross on the cheek, stood up, hemmed out her shirt, and walked toward the kitchen. After giving Joey, who was sitting on the counter, mouth full, a half-hearted smile, Rachel opened the fridge to her displeasure; only several slices of bread and a sliver of ham remained. A sandwich of such a small caliber would not fill her up, but, with the sharp knife of pain that came at extreme hunger, Rachel would take it.

Across the room, Ross began to squirm. He desperately needed someone to talk to; someone who could understand his position. Phoebe couldn't. Joey certainly couldn't. That left two potential candidates; luckily, they were both able to help. Quietly, he attempted to get their attention.

"Guys."

No response; Monica and Chandler were much too engaged with themselves.

"Guys." Ross leaned forward and spoke a little louder this time, making sure that no one else saw the plight in his eyes. Thankfully, Chandler noticed, and whipped his head around to face Ross. After snapping back to reality, he let go of Monica's hands; despite his earlier belittlement, he did not want to face Ross's mostly-verbal wrath. Even though it was not as shrill-sounding, he could be just as loud as his sister.

"I'm scared." His voice cracked; the blood coursing through his veins made him sweat.

"Of?

Ross nudged his head toward Rachel, who was preparing her lunch.

"We've talked about this, dude." Chandler rolled his eyes, knowing deep down that the only reason Ross was bringing this up was to keep him away from Monica. However, his voice hid a small concern for his best friend, and, realizing this was about the proposal, decided to hear him out.

"I don't even know how I'm going to do this!" Ross shook his head rapidly, exclaiming it to himself, but gently crying it to Monica and Chandler. It was true; he had no real game plan but to pop the question when they were alone.

"You said you were going to speak 'from your heart'." Chandler made air quotes at the final words, opting to improve Ross's confidence by lying about his own ability to understand what 'from your heart' meant. Of course, he did, but not as much as Ross.

"I also said I'd write Jurassic Park. Things change."

When he said that, Ross made a fist between them, trying to dissipate his frustration in a physical manner; something he was terrible at. There were much better ways to relieve stress; Ross knew this. So, once he tried to recite Darwin's theories, he found himself calm and confused once again.

"I just- I want this to be perfect. I don't know if I can do that."

"You're worried about this being perfect? Ross, she loves you. Even if you ask her in the most casual way possible, she'll say yes and she will love it. I promise." Monica's skilled words took over Chandler, hoping to shed some light on the situation. She knew more about women than both of them combined; even moreso about Rachel. Therefore, what she said was true; Rachel would love it no matter what. It wasn't because of the presentation or the ring or even his words; it was because it was Ross.

"Yeah? How do you know that? How do you know she won't refuse because it's not the proposal of her dreams?" Ross tried to pull out as many questions as possible, hoping to make them just as disoriented and dismayed as he was. In truth, all he wanted was to make this as memorable as possible for her; more than their first kiss, more than their first night together, and definitely much more than the night of the accident.

"Her dreams, or yours?" Monica pointed her finger at Ross, for once outsmarting him. She could see it instantly; she was right. He feared the proposal because it would not live up to his standards, and not Rachel's, which were practically non-existent.

"What?" Ross looked like he was about to burst out in tears; his face became red at the bed he had made, and knew what Monica was going to say before she even said it.

"You need to stop thinking about how you'll react and start thinking about how she will." Conspicuously, she pointed at Rachel. The words stung a bit, mainly because she was right and he had been wrong this entire time. After several seconds, however, he gave in.

"I don't know how she will, though." Ross's eyes averted to the floor, and he subconsciously played with his hands, hoping to figure something out. It was painful, unable to learn the unknown. However, despite his thirst for knowledge, he'd rather know too little than know too much.

"Think about it."

"But-" He was cut off.

"Just do it, Ross! Quit being a baby!"

Monica's hushed yells startled both Ross and Chandler. However, what surprised them more was that she didn't actually scream, like she'd usually do. This time, she was able to control her decibels. The first thought on her mind was that being with Chandler was making her soft, which she chuckled at, terrifying the two even more.

"Er, whatever, Mon." Ross blinked between Chandler and his sister, unable to comprehend what just happened. Chandler seemed to be more scared than him, as he clenched his jaw shut as to brace for some sort of impact that didn't come.

As seconds turned into minutes, Monica stared into space before crashing back to Earth. Embarrassed, she moved her hair behind her hair and meekly pecked Chandler on the cheek, acting as if nothing happened.

Disgruntled, Ross wiped his face with his hands and fell back into the couch one more time, sighing heavily. He told himself, over and over, that most, if not all of this was in his head; but why couldn't he shake this strange feeling that plagued him? Was he really just paranoid? Was he overthinking it? Was he overthinking about overthinking it? The prospect made his head ache.

In one last motion, Ross locked eyes with his beloved. She was so beautiful, even though she had just gotten out of bed. Her auburn hair was not frizzy nor unkempt; it was as it always was: Angelic. Her skin was still as soft as velvet, and her eyes sparkled in the dim sunlight.

As Rachel smiled at his gaze, he naturally did the same.

He had forgotten what he was so stressed over.