"So, you're telling me," I say as I manage to find a parking spot in front of Ross and Rachel's building, "that Ross still doesn't know that she's pregnant?"

Monica sighs wearily, nodding. "That's what I'm telling you."

"And it's been a month since she told you?"

She looks over at me, a little sadly, as we sit in the car for a moment, the twins chattering softly in the backseat. It's got to be rough when your brother and your best friend date—both expect her to be on their side, keep secrets, be a sounding board. This time around, they've been much better about keeping their personal stuff to themselves; at the very least, they've mostly left Monica out of it. But this one…this one's a doozy.

Technically, Monica wasn't supposed to tell me, but even more technically, she didn't. Over the years, we've gotten quite adept at various versions of charades and guessing games. I've known the woman for almost twenty years; we're pretty good at reading each other by this point. It wasn't hard to figure out what the secret was and who it belonged to. Figuring out that Ross might have been sort of tricked into it took a bit more skill, though to say that I was astonished would be putting it mildly.

We both stare out the windshield at the building just ahead of us; this feels like it could be a less than joyful visit.

"Do you think Ross'll be upset?" I finally ask, and she just shrugs.

"I guess it's a possibility. But…I don't know. It's not like they haven't talked about having more kids; I know Ross said he'd prefer to wait a little longer, but she could have easily gotten pregnant at any point. They both know from experience that these things happen. And I can certainly understand not wanting to stop in the heat of the moment to put on a condom, and then also being okay with the consequences."

"She's going to tell him all this, right?"

"As far as I know. I told her she had to come clean. I mean, the last thing she wants is for this to come out later on, you know? It's better if she just tells him now so, if it is an issue, it won't be for long. Plus, you know, Phoebe doesn't have the best track record for keeping things like this a secret." I wrinkle my forehead at her, confused. "Remember when she blabbed about how I was going to hook up with Joey in London?"

All too well. "Uh, yeah. I see your point."

She reaches over and grabs my hand. "Hey. You know I'd never do anything like this, right? I mean, if we didn't have all the fertility stuff and I could pregnant easily. I wouldn't…"

"Honey, I know. Back in the day, we were sticklers for safe sex. But I do also understand not wanting to stop in the middle of things. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if Ross knew this was a possibility. Even though I knew you were on the pill, it was a while before I stopped panicking every time we didn't use a condom. If Ross has been using them his whole life, I'm sure he didn't magically just 'forget' them once or twice; it kind of becomes a habit. Maybe he was throwing the dice, seeing what would happen."

Her fingers tighten around mine. "I hope so. If things go south with them again, it'll be so much worse this time. Between Emma and the new baby, and the fact that Ben has gotten so used to having Rachel around…it's not just them anymore, you know?"

I shake my head a little, looking over at my wife. "I just never expected Rachel of all people to be that eager for another baby."

She lets out a little sigh. "We're getting older, honey. Biological clocks are ticking and doing crazy things to us. And I guess the thought of waiting more than a year to start trying for another baby was too much for her to take. It doesn't make it right, but I guess I could see where she's coming from."

"I know that sometimes we forget to talk to each other—"

"But those moments are few and far between," she finishes for me, and I can't help but grin.

"But maybe if Rachel had just told him that she didn't want to wait that long…"

"Who knows? Maybe she did. Ross isn't always great at listening. Once he has an idea, it can be pretty hard to sway him." I can't help the snort that comes out of me, and I look at Monica out of the corner of my eye. "Hey; I didn't say that I'm not the exact same way."

"As long as we're clear on that." I sigh and step out of the SUV, hurrying around to the passenger side to start unloading baby paraphernalia. I hand Monica the over-stuffed diaper bag and pause for a moment, waiting a moment to unleash the kids. "So, Rachel wanted us here while she Ross about this whole weird situation?"

"Apparently. Makes you feel all good inside, doesn't it? I guess we're supposed to be moral support."

I look at my wife incredulously. "I get asking you for support, but me? She's met me, right? No advice, all sarcasm. I thought I wasn't supposed to know, anyway."

"I told her you guessed it. She can't drop a bomb on me like that and expect me to keep it from my husband."

I shake my head. "What a mess." I reach into the car and pull Erica out of her car seat; she's already holding her arms out for me. "Hi, baby girl," I tell her, and she puckers up for a kiss.

My kids are the cutest.

I give her a kiss and hand her to Monica; she puckers for a kiss from her mother, too. Monica kisses her, but eyes her warily. "Why do I feel like you're just trying to look cute so we'll forgive you for the world's worst diaper?"

Erica grins and puts her head on Monica's shoulder, and I have to look away. Seriously—they're so adorable sometimes that I actually can't look at them.

I reach back into the car and unlatch William's car seat; I smile down at him for a minute before handing him off, too. "Hey, buddy," I tell him, and he blinks at me sleepily, the car ride into Manhattan having jostled him to sleep.

"Daddy!" Jack exclaims, pushing against his seat restraints, looking offended that he's still trapped.

"Okay, cranky pants," I tell him, freeing him from his prison, and I pause just for a moment to wonder at myself. Where did all these silly little names I have for the kids come from? I never thought about it much before I had kids, but I suppose I just thought I'd call them by their actual names;seems like that happens only about half the time, though. The rest of the time, it's whatever happens to fall out of my mouth; all sorts of cutsie nicknames and endearments that I never knew I had in me. It works for them, though. Sometimes, William is stinky. Lately, Jack is a cranky pants. And Erica always has a little butt.

I'm such a "dad" sometimes, it's scary. I never suspected that falling into this role would be quite so easy. Or so much fun.

Kids are work—a lot of work—but at the end of the day, they're just so fun. It's like having constant playmates.

And I really, really like hearing them call me "daddy." The first time Erica said it to me, I was teary-eyed for about an hour. It was harder to deal with than hearing her call me "dada." I didn't fare much better when Jack said it, either.

I pull my son tight against me for a moment, giving him a hug; he's been so grumpy lately and I can't help but feel upset for him. I can sympathize with where he's coming from, too—personally, I'm not great at expressing myself, and I have the ability to actually use my words. I think the biggest positive that will come out of Jack's terrible twos is that he'll teach himself how to use full sentences just so he can get everything off his chest.

"Jack down," he demands as I close the car door, making sure it's locked and secure.

"Nope," I tell him.

"Jack down!"

I take a deep breath and try to remember what we read about giving kids this age limited options so they still feel like they're part of the decision-making process. "You have two choices, dude—Daddy can carry you, or you can wait in the car."

A puzzled look comes over his face; I don't think he knows what "wait in the car" is yet, or that's a completely empty threat on my part, but he stays quiet, only sighing his displeasure. I give Monica a look and she just shrugs at me. I take William's carrier out of her hand and we head down the sidewalk to the front of the building.

I look up for a moment and pause. "Hey, Mon."

"Yeah?" she answers, pulling Erica's hat down a little more firmly on her head.

"Look at this for a second."

"Look at what?" she asks, coming to stand next to me, her gaze following mine. Slowly, a wistful smile spreads across her face. "Oh."

We can see our old apartment from where we're standing. Her hand wraps around my arm as she leans her head against my shoulder, the both of us taking a moment. It's certainly not the first time we've gone past our old building since we moved, but I don't know if either of us have taken much time since then to really consider it, to just take a few seconds to remember where it all started. It's almost surreal now; in a way, that was a whole different life, and we were completely different people.

But we spent more than ten years in that building; we grew up there, we fell in love there. So much happened in those tiny apartments that it feels like we should take time more often to consider it. We wouldn't be here today without the building in front of us.

I can't even imagine that. A life without Monica, or Jack and Erica and William. It's not a life I want to consider.

"Can you believe it's been almost two years since we left?" Monica asks softly and I shake my head slowly.

"Can you imagine trying to raise this lot in that little place?" I counter and she laughs a little.

"Our lives are so different now."

"It's so much better," I say firmly, and she nods in agreement.

"Much better," she agrees. "Still…we spent so much of our lives there. So many things happened there."

I turn my head and press a kiss to her temple. "We got engaged there."

I can see her smile as she nuzzles her face against my arm. "We had some really great years there." I tilt my head down to her, trying to reach her lips. She comes up on her tiptoes, meeting me halfway.

"I wonder who lives there now," I say a few moments later, rhetorically. I'm sure whoever has it is paying an arm and leg for it now. Once we gave up the lease, the rent control went out the window, and an apartment like that in Manhattan is a hot commodity.

"Hopefully, someone else who's just starting out. Maybe that apartment is lucky."

I love that my wife is sappy and sentimental about things—it makes me love her even more.

"Hey, Jack, look," I say, pointing up to our old balcony, and my son follows my finger. "That used to be your home. Erica, see?"

The twins look at me like I'm nuts. I suppose I can't blame them; I'm sure they have at least some idea of what "home" is, and that's not it. "Home" has a yard, and their toys and beds, and lots of space, and is some place they know. This is completely foreign to them.

Still; it's the first place they lived, even if it was for, essentially, a matter of hours.

I feel Monica's fingers gently massaging my arm, and I know we're both stalling just a bit. I don't think either of us wants to go up to Ross and Rachel's and deal with what could potentially be an explosive situation.

"Do you ever miss it out here?" I finally ask, breaking our introspective moment.

"Not really," she answers without hesitation. "I love our life. I love our home. I think it's where we belong. I love the pace of life out there, and that our kids can play in the snow, that we feel safe all the time…it's wonderful. I mean, it was great out here, but…no. I don't miss it. Do you?"

"Not even a little bit. This isn't our home anymore." Despite the fact that we both commute here every day for work, we don't actually spend much time in the city. If we didn't both love our jobs as much as we do, I'm sure we could find something just as good closer to home.

I sigh and give her a little nudge, and she slowly turns to the apartment building before us. We enter the lobby and start the endlessly joyful task of climbing five flights of stairs with three kids to get to our friends' apartment.

"Okay, Erica," Monica says, trying to get our daughter's attention. "Remember—we don't take our clothes off in public."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing, instead trying focus on getting my boys up the stairs. Now that she knows she can, Erica tends to start peeling off layers of clothes any time she has a few moments to kill. It's not so bad at home—naked babies trotting about are completely adorable—but she's also decided that it's fun even when she's not at home. Monica and I have talked about instituting a designated "naked time," but I don't think our girl will get that concept yet. For now, we just have to keep tabs on her at all times, and try to remind her that nudity isn't always appropriate.

"Erica, look at Mommy." Monica pauses, and I can only assume she manages to get our daughter's attention. "You're not going to take your clothes off; do you understand?" Normally, she's extraordinarily talkative; at the moment, she says nothing. All I can do is believe that she knows exactly what her mother is saying and chooses to ignore it by playing the ignorant baby card.

These kids are clever. They may not be able to express themselves using a lot of words yet, but the amount of crap they understand is just unbelievable.

"If you take off your clothes, Mommy's going to stick them on you with a hot glue gun. Then you'll never be naked again."

"Mama," Erica says, and I can almost believe by her tone that she's not buying a word out of Monica's mouth. Monica looks at me over her shoulder, jutting out her lower jaw just a bit and shaking her head. I bite my lip and say nothing.

Kid's are fun, but also endlessly funny; the hardest part is not laughing at them. The last thing they need is encouragement. Instead, I glance down at William, who seems perfectly content in his carrier for the moment. He smiles up at me happily, drool dribbling down his chin. I shift Jack a little more securely against my hip. "That goes for you, too, Jack. Clothes stay on. And just because your sister gets naked doesn't mean you have to, too." Jack's eyes light up and a huge smile spreads across his face. Before I can react, his little arms wrap around my neck and he's hugging me, and I just don't know what to do with myself. "Your son is killing me," I tell Monica, and she glances over her shoulder again, smiling at us.

"That's how he can get away with being such a jerk half the time. When you're ridiculously cute and charming, it's easy to get away with being so crabby."

I grunt noncommittally and wrap my arm tighter around my son, who has his face buried in my neck. Yeah; he's pretty cute. "I love you, Jack," I whisper, kissing the side of his head. He sighs into my ear and stays quiet.

We trudge up the rest of the stairs mostly in silence, Erica quietly talking to Monica in the occasional two-word sentences, Monica nodding along, answering her, asking her questions. I love watching her with our kids, especially these little one-on-one moments. Erica using her stunted form of communication and Monica puzzling out what she's saying, responding to her, is one of the sweetest things I could hope to see.

Too soon for my liking, we reach the fifth floor, Ross and Rachel's apartment looming in front of us, and we both pause outside the door. Monica breathes a heavy sigh and readjusts Erica on her hip. I put William's carrier on the ground and flex my fingers, both of us stalling as long as possible.

"This could be really ugly," I whisper.

"Yup," Jack answers; oddly, this has been one of his favorite words for a few months now. I'm not sure if he understands the context or just likes the way it sounds—he uses the word correctly about half the time, so our best guess that he just likes the way it sounds. It's still fun when he gets it right, though.

"I know," Monica answers, reaching out to stroke Jack's cheek. "But, it could be okay, too. Maybe you're right, though. Maybe this is all stuff Ross thought about at some point and he was okay with what could happen. I know one thing for sure, though."

"What's that?"

"I don't want to ever talk this much about my brother's sex life ever again."

"Tex," Jack says, and I'm immensely grateful that neither of them has completely mastered the syllable "s" just yet.

"What is it with kids and their ability to pick the one inappropriate word out of an entire conversation?" Monica asks me, and I can tell, yet again, that's she's trying her hardest not to laugh.

"It's a gift, or baby radar, or something," I answer, grabbing William's carrier once more. Monica reaches out and knocks on the door. Silence greets us.

"Should we just go in?" Monica asks quietly. "I mean, won't they think something's up if won't don't just barge right in?"

"On you, honey—my hands are full."

She grabs the doorknob and pushes the door open a crack, poking her head in. "Hello? Ross? Rache?" She pushes the door open the rest of the way, and we can see the two of them standing near the kitchen, arms around each other, rocking back and forth. We shoot each other glances, eyebrows raised, before turning our attention back to our friends.

"Hi!" Erica exclaims; Ross and Rachel jump, both wiping their eyes as they smile at us. I see Monica give them a tentative smile, leaning her head forward a little in anticipation.

"We're having a baby!" Ross is practically glowing he's so excited. Monica and I look at each other again, smiling, not sure if we're supposed to act surprised.

"Congratulations!" Monica finally exclaims, and Ross comes over to us, pulling his sister in for a hug.

"It's okay—Rachel told me she told you."

I look at Rachel over Monica's shoulder, raising my eyebrows, and she doesn't look at all surprised that I know what's going on. "I told him everything. All of it."

"It was silly to want to wait for another baby," Ross finishes, releasing Monica, wrapping an arm around me; Monica takes William so I can hug Ross back. "I think it was probably intentional on both our parts because we—"

Monica makes a face, jumping in. "You know; I don't need the details. Thanks, though."

Rachel comes over to us, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I was going to wait for you to get here, but he kept asking me what was going on and why was I so nervous and it all just fell out and we're both so happy about this, though. Another baby! Can you believe it?"

Monica smiles and I put William's carrier on the floor, my hand going to her back, rubbing gently. "It's great. Really. We're so happy for you both." I nod along, perfectly content to let my wife answer for the both of us.

Ross reaches out, grabbing Rachel's hand, swinging them back and forth. "I know you guys just got here, but would you mind giving us some time alone? I think we need to just celebrate this right now."

Monica's cheeks turn a little pink, and I can tell she's more than just a bit annoyed. It's no easy feat wrangling three small children and all of their crap into a car and dragging them into Manhattan. It takes a lot more planning and effort on our part than anyone would ever guess, and I certainly can't blame Monica for being miffed at suddenly being expelled. I put my hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, trying to calm her down

Ross and Rachel face each other, completely oblivious for a few moments; Rachel glances over at us, smiling happily until her eyes grow wide. "No, Ross, we can ask to them leave. They came all the way in from Westchester."

Ross blinks a few times, coming back to reality. His face drops as his words finally register. "Geez, guys, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I was thinking you just came from across the street." He waves his arms at us, gesturing us further into the apartment. "Come in. Stay. Hang out." He holds his hands out for Jack, who just looks at him with his forehead crinkled, not at all interested in being held by anyone other than me or his mother right now. Ross just smiles at him and rubs his head gently, and Jack sighs against my shoulder. Rachel comes over and tickles Erica's sides. She giggles and scrunches up her little body, simultaneously twisting away from her aunt's probing fingers and leaning toward Rachel to be held.

I look back and forth between Ross and Rachel, who can't seem to stop staring at each other dreamily—they do both look really happy, and I can relate to that.

I give Monica a nudge and gesture to the two of them with my head; she looks over at them for a few moments and nods, looking resigned.

"How about," I say as Monica picks up William's carrier, "if we give you guys a little bit of time right now, and we all meet up later this afternoon? I'm sure the couch at Central Perk is feeling lonely."

"No," Ross insists, smiling at us. "Seriously. You came all this way; we can't just send you packing now."

"It's okay," Monica says, putting a hand on Ross's arm. "You just got really big news and you want to celebrate. We get that. Take some time. Give us a call in a few hours."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asks uncertainly, swinging Erica gently from side to side.

"Positive," Monica answers, and I give her shoulders a squeeze.

"Completely."

She reaches out to Monica, and they wrap their free arms around each other. "Thank you," I hear her whisper to my wife, and I'm sure it's for more than just right now. They pull apart and Monica suddenly has Erica on her hip. "We'll call you in a couple of hours," she promises, smiling over at Ross once more.

"Love you," Ross tells us as he holds the door open. "Are you really sure this is okay?"

"Yes," I assure him. "When we found out Monica was pregnant, my only thought was to be near her. It's cool, Ross." I see Monica nod out of the corner of my eye, and I know that even though she doesn't thrill to the idea of trudging down five flights of stairs so soon, she does understand the need to be close to one another after news like this.

He leans in and kisses his sister on the cheek then gives me another hug. "Thank you."

"Congratulations, Ross," Monica tells him, smiling. "Really. This is great. We get another niece or nephew. What could be better?"

Rachel tears up even as she smiles at us, mouthing "thank you." We both nod and head down the hall, the door clicking shut softly behind us.

We walk down several flights of stairs silently, and I can tell Monica has more on her mind than just what just happened. At the landing between the first and second floors, she comes to a halt, stopping to sit on the stairs, plopping Erica down next to her. I look at her quizzically for a moment, but she just reaches into William's carrier, undoing his buckles and pulling him into her arms. "Poor little guy," she says softly, rubbing his back. "You've been in that seat for too long."

I sit down on the floor in front of her, Jack on my lap, and all three of our kids are fairly quiet for the moment, their mother's baffled mood probably pretty evident.

"You okay, Mon?"

"Other than the fact that I'm unreasonably bitter that this is the second time Rachel's gotten pregnant without trying?"

I smile at her sadly, understanding completely—Rachel's second time without trying, and Ross's third. The world has a cruel, sick sense of humor. "Other than that."

She sighs, looking a little a little distraught. "I can't help feeling like it was a little too easy, you know? Like Ross just accepted that Rachel went about this in a completely icky manner and is fine with it. I mean, I'm glad they're both so happy about it, but…"

I nod my head, wrapping my arms a little tighter around Jack. "I know. This whole thing feels like it can't possibly lead to anything good for them."

"Like it's the beginning of the end?"

"I don't know; maybe. I'm with you—I'm glad they're both happy about this, and I think they truly are. But it just feels like they resolved this a little too neatly. Neither one of them have ever been great at being completely upfront with each other, so if either one of them has a problem with this situation, it'll be months before it comes out. I mean, hopefully the baby won't be the issue, but I certainly think it'll be a symptom for any other problems they have or will have. That sort of lack of communication…"

She nods, her expression a little sad, and turns William around so he's sitting on her lap, facing me, and puts an arm around Erica's shoulders. "I just don't feel good about this whole thing. I want to—I really do. And if they're okay with it, it's not like we have some say in it, but…it feels a little off."

I reach out and put my hand on Monica's knee. "I know, honey. It does; I can't put my finger on the whole thing exactly, but...and I would say that it's their lives and they have to deal with it, but…"

"But that's not really the case," she finishes, sighing. "If this whole thing implodes at some point, we both know we'll be expected to take sides."

"Well, we won't," I reassure her, squeezing her leg gently. "Their drama is not ours. We have enough on our plate without another chapter in the soap opera that is their lives. If they're happy about this, we'll support them one hundred percent."

"And if it gets to the point where they're not happy—about this or whatever—we'll step back. Together. We won't let them drag us into it."

I'm undeniably relieved that we're on the same page with this. It's not that I don't think our own relationship wouldn't survive a Ross-and-Rachel battle, but who needs it? We have three kids of our own we're trying to raise; we have demanding, full-time jobs, and a million and a half other little things that require our attention; when it comes down to it, managing our life is more important.

But…I do believe that this marks an important turning point for the two of them. I just truly hope they come out of it okay.

It also feels like a turning point in our relationship with her brother and Rachel; for so many years, the six of us have had our lives so intertwined and meshed, and we've all dealt with most of these issues as a unit. None of us have ever forgotten what it was like to listen to Ross and Rachel break up all those years ago, and how it felt like it was happening to all of us. But now…I don't know if either of us have the stamina for that. Keeping up with Ross and Rachel can take so much energy and time, and I'd rather spend that focused on my wife and children.

It feels like an ending in a way, or at least a very important shift. The two of them will always be a part of our lives—he's Monica's brother, for crying out loud. Rachel is Emma's mother and we've known her for a million years. I guess it's just a matter of us maybe not needing them in the way we used to. We have different friends now, people who are part of our everyday lives and who spend time with our kids. How much longer can we hold on to the relationships we used to have with our friends? How much longer is it feasible? I don't think we could ever really let go of these people, but I think we'll have to start acknowledging that they're not a part of us the way they used to be.

We're all heading in separate directions; Joey's career is taking off, Phoebe and Mike have their happy little life with their daughter, though I feel like those two might be the ones who wind up being our neighbors at some point, oddly. Ross and Rachel's life keeps them almost exclusively in the city, though with another baby on the way, they're going to have to start looking for a bigger place one way or another.

It's a little sad and scary to think about it, even if it's something that's probably been coming on for some time. Everybody changes. Friendships change, and it's not always a bad thing. Some people are in your life forever, and some just for a brief period. While I hope that all of us will always be close—I certainly have a hard time imagining our future without those guys around—I know that they have been an important part of my life, of our life, and for that, I'll be forever grateful.

"I need comfort food," Monica says suddenly. "Want to take the kids to Serendipity? I know they're kind of young, but it'll be a fun touristy thing to do with them."

I smile at my wife and nod, leaning forward to give her a quick, gentle kiss. I stand and hover near her, but she scoops up Erica and shifts William around, situating them both before standing up like a pro. I grab the car seat and follow behind, looking up the stairs for just a moment before sighing. I give myself a shake and follow Monica back out onto the busy sidewalk.

Our friends may be full of drama, but my life isn't. For the most part, it's peaceful and happy, and I usually feel like the luckiest guy to ever walk the planet—moments like this let me know that I actually am the luckiest guy on the planet. I unlock our car and help Monica begin the arduous task of putting our kids back in their seats. Her forehead is a little wrinkled, and I can tell she's more upset about this than she wants to be, her thoughts probably on the same wavelength as mine. I take a moment to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into me.

"I love you," I whisper. "Never forget that."

I feel her lips against my neck spreading into a smile. "I love you, too." Her arm slides around me for a few moments, squeezing gently. "I love you, too."

*A/N…you guys need to learn how to trust me.