The Last Night

Chandler's eyes fluttered open as the warmth from the sunlight peeking through the windows and past the heavy curtains fell upon his face. He mindlessly stretched his arm out to reach across the sheets, in hopes to touch the lithe form which he had grown accustomed to sharing a bed with. He whimpered a bit as he found the other side left cold and bereft of its occupant, that for the last forty-eight hours, had been reliably present. He lifted his head to look around the hotel room, but quickly plopped it back down on his pillow as he heard the shower running from beyond the slightly ajar bathroom door. He entertained the idea of sneaking inside and joining her, but decided against it, and instead, he rolled over on his back and let out a yawn as a slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips.

This had been, without question, the best two days of his life. Or, at the very least, they were the most naked two days of his life. He still was not sure if it was Vegas, Monica's break-up with Richard, his own failed brush with a virtual romance, the alcohol, the absence of their other friends, or the simple fact that they were two attractive people in the prime of life. Truth was, he no longer cared. He was too contented to question this anymore. He and Monica were having sex. That was their new normal.

Yet, it was more than just sex. Chandler had felt surprisingly contented in every single way imaginable. This entire week in Las Vegas had opened his eyes to a new, better kind of life. One where he no longer felt awkward or uncomfortable in his own skin. One where he wasn't constantly bemoaning some lack of fulfillment; looking over his shoulder for something to save him from himself. It felt as though everything he ever wanted was here, now in this hotel room. And for the first time in his life, he felt as if he knew what he wanted.

He let his hand slide up underneath Monica's pillow, intent on taking advantage of her absence, and enjoy the space of the entire bed that he temporarily had to himself. However, once his hand slipped underneath, he stopped in his motions and smirked, as he felt the rubbery handle of the spatula that they had pilfered from the hotel breakfast buffet. He pulled it out and looked at it with a mollified expression on his face.

"We have got to clean this."

He deposited it on the end table and lifted his head once more when he heard the water shut off from the other room. He lifted his arm and sniffed at himself to see if his scent was passable before pulling the sheet back and away from his body. He used just a small amount of it to barely cover his torso and waist. He propped his head up on his hand, supported at the elbow, and held his breath; puffing out his chest as he attempted to display the best version of his bedroom eyes.

Monica stepped from the bathroom, wrapped in a clean white robe, as she used a towel to dry her hair. She lifted one leg up on a chair in the room, oblivious to Chandler's attempt at presenting himself to her, and ran the towel along her calf.

"Hey, do you want to jump in the…." She looked over at him and let out a laugh before covering her mouth, her eyes wide with amusement as he lay there. "What are you doing?"

"I'm practicing the art of seduction."

Monica stood up straight and let out one more quick chuckle. "You might want to keep practicing. I thought we talked about this."

"What? About how you can't live without the Chan-love?"

"Yeah, that's it. I just can't get enough."

Monica shook her head and returned her attention to drying her hair. "I was thinking maybe we should start looking for flights home."

Chandler stiffened up and pulled the sheet over him, covering more of his body as he suddenly felt a chill in the room.

"What?"

"It's been almost a week since we left. Don't you think maybe we should get back to the real world?"

Chandler looked around the room. "I think I like this world better."

Monica sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her hand along his arm. "I know sweetie, but, well, I think it's time."

"Yeah? You, uh, you feel better? Ready to go back home?"

Monica took pause, but then nodded. "Yeah. You know, it's funny. I feel really good about this."

Chandler lifted himself up and smiled as his face lit up. "Yeah?"

"Yes. I really think this is just what I needed. I was so anxious and depressed, but some meaningless sex fixed me right up."

The color faded from Chandler's cheeks as he looked down for a moment. "Meaningless. Right."

Monica looked back over at him, and he immediately plastered a forced smile on his face. "No, I agree. I mean, who wouldn't feel better after a few days of goofing around, right?"

Monica nodded slowly; her brow wrinkled though with concerned confusion. "How about you? Are you okay?"

"Are you kidding? Never better. Never better. Hey, did I tell you about this girl I scored with last night?"

Monica huffed out a laugh and then stood back up. "Why don't you take a shower and we can make our way to the airport."

Chandler's eyes moved side-to-side quickly as he tried to think of something, anything to prolong their inevitable return to their old life. A life he wasn't sure he wanted anymore. Not after these last two days.

"Hey, wait! We can't go. Not without having one last night."

'What?"

"Well, uh, we spent the last two days here in the room, not that I'm complaining, but we should have one last night in Vegas. Gamble, dinner, maybe a show. I did promise my dad I'd see him one more time before we left. What do you say, one last night and then tomorrow morning we fly home?"

Monica pulled at her lip and slowly nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. Okay, let me just dry my hair. Why don't you call the airline to get us tickets and then after your shower we can have breakfast and make an itinerary. We'll have to really plan this out if we want to maximize the amount of fun we can have on our last day."

Chandler shook his head. "Yes. Because what could be more fun that making lists and charts and schedules?"

Monica shot him a wounded look, but soon enough her face gave way to an amused smile. She stood up and started to walk towards the bathroom. Chandler jumped out of bed excitedly, forgetting for a moment that he was completely naked, and he danced around victoriously.

Monica slipped inside the bathroom and shouted. "Don't do the dance." Before closing the door behind her.

Chandler stopped in his motions, and nervously covered himself as he became acutely aware of his nakedness. "Right."

Monica smiled and nodded a silent "thank you" as Chandler pulled her chair out so she could sit down. She lifted her shoulders and rubbed them as she felt a chill, no doubt from the restaurant's air-conditioner that shot a shiver across every inch of her body. It seemed, ever since they left the warmth of their hotel bed, everywhere they went was cold. The casino floor where they lost money at blackjack, the hotel bar, where she quickly downed two glasses of scotch, the cab ride here, and finally, the restaurant itself.

She followed Chandler with her eyes as he stepped from behind her after pushing her chair in and sat down across from her. They shared a smile and then she eyed his suit jacket with purposeful envy.

"You want to borrow my jacket, don't you?"

"Well, I don't know why it needs to be like an icebox in here."

"You're always cold."

"I am not."

"Are you kidding? It could be the middle of August and you would still need a blanket over your legs when you curl up on the couch to watch a movie."

"That's not because I'm cold, that's just for...you know what…fine…I'm always cold. Give me your coat."

Chandler slipped out of his jacket and laughed. He then started to look around the restaurant nervously. Monica eyed him with suspicious concern.

"Are you okay?"

He shot her an anxious look. "Yes! Yes! I'm good. I'm good. Are you good? Is, uh, everything perfect?"

Monica narrowed her eyes, wondering why Chandler appeared so uneasy. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. In fact, I've been fine all week, maybe for the first time in my life, and I think the reason is you."

"Oh, that's so sweet."

Chandler cleared his throat and Monica could tell there was something on his mind. Years of friendship, and especially now after their last few days of intimacy, have bestowed upon her a sixth sense when it came to him. His every tic, each movement and stalling tactic now as clear to her as a bright shining star. And they were all on display. He had something he wanted to say, and it was important enough to send him into an almost full-blown Chandler attack. She decided to reach across the table and gently stroke his hand in hopes to calm him down and help him focus. Chandler blew some air from his mouth and puffed up his chest, in a way she had seen several times before whenever he tried to summon the nerve to say or do something he felt was important.

"Okay, here goes. Before this week, hell before I ever met you, I had very little life, and I was thinking all day about how I said that I needed to get real, you know, before the wedding, with that girl online?"

Monica nodded.

"Well I realized that, this is me being myself, being real, well, around you I think maybe I'm always myself…"

Monica looked up, slightly distracted and only catching a few of the words that were coming out of Chandler's mouth. She narrowed her eyes until they opened back up with a flash of recognition behind them.

"Helena?"

She returned her gaze downward towards Chandler, who had already turned to look over his shoulder and she could hear him groan as he shook his head.

Monica waved excitedly back at Chandler's father to get her attention. "Helena!"

Chandler's father stepped closer to the table, smiled at Monica and looked down at his son. "Hey, I didn't think I would see you two until later tonight. What a coincidence." Helena turned to the man standing next to her. "You both remember Mitchel, right?"

Monica nodded and she looked down, noticing Chandler becoming very uncomfortable. She watched for a moment as he tugged at his tie and pulled his collar loose. She shot him a stern look, assuming he was still having trouble adjusting to his father and how Helena carried herself in public. She waited for Chandler to make eye contact with her, and a when he did, she could sense he knew exactly what she was thinking as his features softened. He turned to face his father.

"Hey dad. Mr. Garibaldi. How, uh, how are you two? What are you doing here?"

"We're good. We thought we would have something to eat before the shows tonight."

Monica smiled and looked at the two empty chair at their table. "Why don't you two join us? We can all eat together and then go to the club?"

Helena looked over at Chandler and smiled. "Sure, that sounds like fun."

Chandler groaned once more and shook his head. Monica couldn't help herself but scold him once more with her eyes, urging him to lighten up and appreciate the extra time he had to spend with his father. The waiter approached the table and Monica immediately ordered a bottle of wine, hoping maybe it would help loosen him up.

Monica sipped down the last of her drink through the tiny stirring straw in her glass and then cheered loudly as she placed it back down on the table. She turned back to look at Chandler and his father.

"Wow! Did you hear her voice? Uh, his voice. Her voice. I'm sorry, I'm still so confused."

"It's okay darling, you'll get the hang of it."

Monica observed Chandler once more and could sense his quiet malcontent. He had been moody ever since they arrived at the club, shifting in his chair all night. It was starting to get on her nerves. Monica stood up and swayed a bit on her feet.

"I have to go to the little girl's room."

Helena laughed and nodded over at one of the waitresses. "Okay darling, you know, some big girls will be in there too. Maybe we should have Candi walk you over. You look like you might be a little tipsy dear."

"What?" Monica waved her hand to dismiss Helena and blew air from her mouth. "I'm fine'd."

Helena glanced over at Chandler to share an amused look with him, but he seemed withdrawn and stuck in his own thoughts. She could tell, he was brooding.

"Chandler, what is wrong with you? Is this about me or…Mr. Garibaldi…or…"

Chandler shook his head and chuckled defensively. "No dad, jeez, no."

"Okay then, well what is this all about." Helena gestured at Chandler, as if noting every way his body language was telegraphing his mood.

"Nothing. I guess I'm just not looking forward to going home tomorrow."

"Why? I know Vegas can be fun, but it doesn't really seem to be your kind of town and…" Helena looked around the bar and her eyes went wide as she turned back to face her son. "Is this about Monica?"

"What? No. Well, maybe."

Helena clapped her hands together triumphantly and let out one loud cackle. "Ha! I knew it! I knew there was something between you two the first night you came in here."

"What? No, nothing, well, not nothing, but that was after, not before, and now it's something out of nothing, and I don't want it to go back to being nothing, I want it to be something and…"

"Son. I have no idea what you are trying to say. Are you two together?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe."

"Ah, you two had sex."

"What?"

"You only get this flustered about sex. I can see it written all over your face."

"Fine, yes. We slept together, but, it's just, we're going home tomorrow and…"

"And you haven't told her how you feel."

Chandler screwed up his face and scoffed. "What? I don't feel like anything."

"Yes, you do. You want to see where this can go and she doesn't know that."

Chandler attempted to sound outraged, but as he continued to speak, he quickly abandoned his indignation at his father's words. "That is ridiculous and yes that is exactly what is going on and I am terrified about it. I was going to say something over dinner, but, well, you showed up."

"That's why you're all moody."

"I'm not moody."

"Yes you are. You've always been moody. Even when you were a child."

"Well, I mean…" Chandler gestured at his father.

"Point taken." Helena looked out and noticed Monica at the bar. "Well, if you want my advice, you have to stop being this grumpy, acerbic jerk. That's just going to turn her off." She returned her gaze to her son. "Look, how do you feel about her?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm crazy about her. I can't stop thinking about how, here I am, with this fantastic woman." Chandler sighed and shook his head. "What does it matter. She's not looking for this, besides, she just broke up with Richard, and he was the right guy for her. She isn't interested in someone like me. I was just a….useful distraction."

"How do you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you know this Richard was the right guy?"

"Are you kidding? I was there. I know he's the love of her life."

Helena looked back at the bar and observed Monica sipping a drink as she was laughing with two of the performers from her show. "Not anymore."

Chandler smiled for a moment and then looked down. "Really? You think so?"

"He's not here is he? Look, Chandler, I see how she looks at you, and, well, what if this Richard person is the wrong guy, and you are the right guy? You know, people don't get chance like this all the time, and if you don't say something now, you're going to be kicking yourself when you eighty."

Chandler stopped and froze as he felt the strong tug of déjà vu. He looked at his father and leaned forward. "What did you say?"

"I said, maybe you're the right guy. You have to tell her how you feel."

Chandler smiled and slowly nodded. While he never believed in fate, karma, or destiny, something struck him as serendipitous. To hear his father paraphrase the sentiment that Phoebe had expressed just six days ago. It had to mean something. He was certain of it.

Monica stumbled her way back to the table and spoke loudly with slurred words.

"Wow, Helena, your girls are really friendly."

Helena winced and tried to push Monica chair out a bit to give her a bigger target as she tried to sit down. "Oh, dear. I'm going to kill them."

Chandler studied Monica carefully. "Are you drunk?"

Monica waved him off dismissively. "No." She then proceeded to sit, slipping on her feet, and crashed down hard on her chair. "Woah!" She nodded and let a sheepish smile spread across her lips. "Oh, okay. Yeah, I'm drunk." She laughed and then wrapped her arms around herself as she looked back at Chandler. "I'm gonna puke on you later."

Chandler leaned Monica against the wall next to their hotel room and began to fish inside his pocket for the keycard. Monica narrowed her eyes, and hungrily bathed him with her gaze. She sprung forward, wrapping her arms around his neck as his hand was awkwardly caught between them, stuck in his pocket.

"You are so handsome. I want to make love to you right here right now. Grrr!"

She placed a kiss on his lips, which caused him to pull back a bit under the sting of her boozy breath. He then shook his head.

"I really wish that you wouldn't. I don't want to get arrested for indecent exposure on our last night."

Monica chuckled and set herself back as Chandler finally snaked the keycard from his back pocket. He opened the door and led her over to the bed, gently setting her down.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Monica blew out air from between her closed lips and giggled at the sensation of the vibrations. "I'm fine'd"

"I don't know, when you put a D at the end of fine, you're probably not fine." Chandler brought over a bottle of water and a waste bin, setting them up next to the bed.

"Well, it's a really hard word to say."

"Sure it is. Now look, are you sure you're okay?"

Monica nodded her head in a slow, exaggerated up and down motion. "Wow. What was in those drinks they gave me."

"I don't know for sure, but I'm inclined to say, a lot of alcohol."

Monica laughed and then laid back on the bed. "I know, I know. I think maybe I'm really nervous about going back home tomorrow and having to face everyone and tell them about Richard and what we did here and…"

Chandler sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at her. "Oh, you want to uh, you want to tell them what we've been doing?"

"Well, I mean…oh…uh…" Monica gagged on her words and sat up quickly. She waved her hands frantically for Chandler to bring her the garbage can, and he lifted it up just in time for her to begin throwing up into its empty, clear bag.

Chandler winced a bit and he tried to back away as far as he could while still holding the can. "Oh no. This is so gross."

Monica began to wobble a bit as she tried to keep her head down, and Chandler slid closer to her. He pressed his body against hers so she could steady herself, held the can with one hand, and began rubbing her back. They sat there, for a few minutes, waiting to see if Monica would get sick again, but she slowly straightened up and began to slip back on the bed.

"Okay, take it slow."

Monica's head hits the pillow and her eyes closed. Chandler sat there on the edge of the bed for a few moments, watching her. He tried to tell himself that he was only making sure she did not get up again, but he knew that was a lie.

Monica spoke, weakly, and her words were almost blending together as she was fading out of consciousness.

"Thanks."

"No problem roomie. Are you going to be okay?"

"Ha. We are kind of roomies here, huh?" Monica's words became less coherent, weaker, and were barely louder than a whisper. "K. You're so great. I love you."

Chandler stood up, his eyes wide, and began to gesture at her demonstratively. "What did you just say?"

Monica's only response to her incredulous friend was a series of quiet, little snores as she fell fast asleep.