Tit for Tat

Clutching the blanket that she had snatched from the couch tightly to her chest, Rachel slammed her bedroom door shut behind her. She could not tell if the steam rising from her body was due to the hot shower she had just taken, or her righteous rage at Chandler for stumbling into the apartment and catching her half-naked.

She found that she was now frozen in place. Almost driven into a catatonic state of shock as she tried to process which emotion to feel first; embarrassment, shame, indignation, or just blind fury. Every possible and justifiable reaction was tightly wound up into a ball of unmanifested energy; building up inside her, ready to rip itself from her chest.

She seethed and glared in the direction of the wall she shared with her roommate.

Monica.

This was all her fault.

How could she let these boys come and go as they please into her apartment, into their apartment, for all these years without any repercussions. They eat their food. They drink their Diet Cokes. They stink up their bathroom. They steal their newspaper. They are two sex-crazed, testosterone filled, public menaces.

They are always here. Rachel can barely get a moment to herself without someone intruding on the peaceful tranquility of her perfect apartment. Walking in like they own the place as they turn the television on or raid the fridge. It's a wonder it had taken this long for one of them to barge in on her in some state of undress as she walked from the bathroom to her bedroom.

And for it to be Chandler? Of all the luck.

Chandler.

That socially awkward, tongue-tied, man-child had to be the one to walk in on her? At least if it was Joey, he wouldn't have been so uncomfortably apologetic, squirming in his shoes as he tried to avoid making eye contact; compelling Rachel to feel guilty as if she were somehow at fault.

No. Joey would have made it clear who the guilty party was. He would have looked her up and down, leered at her, perhaps allowed some lecherous double entendre to fall from his lips, and in doing so, he would have given her license to unleash a string of obscenities his way as she banished him from the apartment.

Instead, thanks to Chandler, mixed with her anger are these twinges of sympathy for him at how terrible he probably felt. He flustered as he stood there, appearing like a wounded child, who lost his innocence.

Unbelievable!

As if it was her transgression, as if she, for some reason, should feel responsible. Making her second-guess every decision that led to her, standing before him, wrapped in that loose weave.

She looked up at the ceiling, chuckled to herself, and then shook her head as her mind began replaying what had happened; conjuring up different scenarios that may have been much more preferable than giving Chandler an eyeful of the "girls".

Of course, if it was Monica he walked in on, maybe then, at least, her efforts in trying to bring them together would bear some fruit. Perhaps, if the two of them stumbled onto each other in various stages of nakedness, it would finally pop that obvious bubble of sexual tension that is lodged between them. Monica would finally see Chandler as a sexual being, Chandler would realize how crazy he is about her. It would have been perfect.

God knows, nothing else she has tried has worked. Not even when she showed everyone the first draft from her Nora Bing inspired erotic novel about Chester and Marsha, long-time friends who fell into each other's arms and surrendered themselves to a night of passion at a relative's wedding. She was certain that the two of them would notice the similarities between the characters and themselves. She wasn't exactly subtle about it. Not when the dialogue included several of their anecdotes and recurring phrases.

Chester with his "could I be anymore turned on."

Marsha, obsessed with the cleanliness of the bedroom, screaming "I know!" when she climaxed.

Somehow, even that wasn't clear enough. Even when Ross appeared to raise a suspicious eyebrow, and Joey, knowing all about her plans, shot her a nervous look, those two obtuse idiots she wrote the damn thing about could only focus on her lousy typing and terrible spelling. They were simply hopeless. Perhaps even seeing each other naked would not be enough to lift the fog from their eyes.

Monica followed Roger with a pair of incredulous eyes as he walked over to the couch. She was beside herself at the realization that Phoebe was already in a relationship so soon after her break-up with Paolo. Monica had always had a hard time understanding Phoebe's taste in men, but her latest string of lovers has left her speechless. Phoebe seemed to be alternating between sweaty nerds and thickheaded beefcake. Not that Monica thought there was anything wrong with beefcake, she wouldn't mind having a slice of it for herself. But like a sweet treat filled with empty calories and regret, the occasional beefcake usually left Monica unfulfilled and wanting more. Even though she was never one to shy away from a one-night stand, she was much more interested in finding someone she could make a real connection with and share in a lasting, deep, meaningful relationship.

"Good luck with that Geller. At this rate, Phoebe will have gone out with all of the eligible bachelors in Manhattan before you get another first date."

She chuckled to herself at that thought, and then returned her attention to Roger, ensuring he was out of earshot before leaning over to sternly whisper as the girls huddled up to gossip about Phoebe's latest paramour.

"Phoebe? How are you with this Roger guy already? You just broke up with Paolo like a minute ago!"

Phoebe looked nervously between Monica and Rachel. "I know, but then I saw Roger and he was so cute and smart I just had to snatch him up! Oh, and wait until you talk to him. I promise you guys will find him just as interesting as I do."

Monica lifted her eyebrows as a skeptical look fell across her face, but she quickly shrugged her shoulders and nodded as she resigned herself to accept yet another thing about her friend that she simply did not understand. Phoebe's ability to bounce back quickly after a break-up. She never seemed bogged down by the weight of expectations and the frustration of failed romances. She always got right back out there to find someone new.

Monica on the other hand, would obsess for days after just one bad date. She had always thought she was waiting for the right guy. The perfect guy. Her soulmate. That her trials and tribulations with dating and men was just the price she had to pay for maintaining her standards and finally ending up with the "one". Yet, every disappointment when it came to men ate away at her confidence. She wondered if perhaps she should be more like Phoebe, a wild leaf caught in a strong breeze. Rolling through the air without a care as to where it landed. Letting chance and chaos be its guide.

Just the thought of giving up that much control sent a shiver through her body. No. Monica knew she had to stay the path. Wait for her prince.

While this Roger seemed fine for Phoebe and her superficial view of love, there was no way he could be someone Monica would be interested in. First, his hair was much too long for her taste and that beard stubble would drive her crazy.

"Have a beard or don't have a beard. Don't stop halfway!'

There was also this smug way he carried himself. He was too much like her brother, who always knew when he was the smartest person in the room. An annoying quality that looked bad on anyone, but especially on men.

Monica then looked over her shoulder and observed Chandler as she bit her lip. She couldn't help but think that intelligent men should carry themselves more like he does. He never showed off or made anyone else feel bad if they did not know what some obscure word meant. Unlike Ross who would no doubt chuckle as he found someone else's ignorance amusing or Roger who looked to be the type to use that information to judge someone's worth.

Not Chandler. He was much more understated. Really, if he wasn't the only one wearing a suit right now, you would assume he was just like any other twenty-six-year-old man. Stuck between adolescence and something else that he was going to become. Yet, he had a stable job, was thoughtful, handsome, smart. Sure, he might make a joke at your expense, but he always made sure you were in on it with him.

If he did become too overbearing, fate would usually step in to humble him. Like right now, as he squirmed in his seat under the rueful eye of Rachel as she still held her grudge and the painfully sharp observations from Phoebe's new boyfriend.

She smirked for a moment, but her enjoyment at his discomfort faded as she noticed he looked particularly wounded by something Roger said. She could not help herself as it appeared he needed a lifeline. She reached out to touch him on the arm, as if to soothe his bruised ego. She almost felt bad for him. Almost.

Chandler groaned loudly and made sure to demonstratively express his dismay the minute Roger's name was uttered over Monica's intercom. His impending descent upon this evening's festivities left Chandler with an uncomfortable sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. He could only anxiously dance around on the tips of his toes as he waited for yet another series of surgical strikes at the most vulnerable spots of his psyche. What new and harrowing truths would Phoebe's boyfriend subject him to? He did not know. The only thing he was sure of was that he was not interested in having his soft, tender bits left out on display for everyone to see.

Although, much to his pleasant surprise, as the night went on, Roger used his keen skills to assail the others and their hard shells of phycological defense. It didn't take long for Chandler to relax as everyone else took their turn through the ringer. He almost felt giddy as his friends now had to endure the same uncomfortably revealing emotional vulnerability that he had experienced earlier in the coffee house. Misery, and psychological torture, must love company.

He could see it on everyone's face. Especially Monica and Ross, who looked ready to join forces and heave Roger off the balcony. A feat Chandler found himself very interested in watching play out. Every groan and guttural reply were music to Chandler's ears. Each of his friends now being brought down to his level. He wasn't sure if the night could get any better.

The only one smart enough to avoid Roger's debilitating analysis seemed to be Joey, who kept his distance as he stewed over the discovery of his father's infidelity. Chandler got a chuckle out of that irony. Joey, outwitting everyone for once, and the source of his own malcontent being his Lothario dad. Really, all he needed now was for it to come out that Rachel's father also dressed in drag and he would be in schadenfreude heaven.

"Look, all I am saying is that you will never find love until you come to terms with the fact that no man will ever be able to completely fill the void left inside you from your parent's lack of emotional availability and attention. No man could live up to those expectations of making up what they lacked to provide. It is much easier to build a bridge than try to fill a chasm Monica. But instead, you created this search for perfection so that you can reject men who don't live up to your standards before they can reject you. It's really textbook."

Monica stared dead-eyed at the kitchen table, barely able to lift the cookie in front of her that she had assumed would be her sweet reward for the ninety-minute gym class she had sweat through this afternoon. But now she sees it is only a poor substitute for love, and it will never sate her hunger.

Roger looked around the room and then, once finding Chandler, pointed at him. "You know, in a way, you and Chandler are a lot alike, he no doubt fixates on small imperfections in order to avoid getting close to anyone because of his abandonment issue stemming from his own parent's."

Roger looked back at Monica.

"That's probably why the two of you are so close. This unspoken shared experience of parental neglect. You're practically kindred spirits."

Chandler looked at Monica, and as the two of them made eye contact, they shared the same incredulous expression. Then, each one of them narrowed their eyes, as if they were studying each other, looking for some sign that maybe Roger was right.

Almost simultaneously, both shook their heads and began to stammer and scoff.

"No."

"Nononono."

"No way."

"nuh-uh."

"Nope."

They shared one more glance and then each quickly turned away from each other.

Rachel watched Ronnie make her way to the bathroom and waited until she heard the click of the lock bolt. She then turned back to the door and allowed a devilish look to flash over her face as a roguish smile spread across her lips.

"Mr. Bing, it is time you see your thing."

Monica chuckled and held the door open as Rachel appeared ready to exact her revenge. She took three determined steps towards the door but stopped and looked back at her roommate. She noticed that Monica's cheeks seemed flush with color. She kept her eyes down, and the smirk on her face gave way to a sheepish smile.

Rachel's eyes opened wide as she wondered to herself, if maybe, she was finally getting through to Monica. Could she be caught in a momentary fantasy where she was the one about to see Chandler Bing in all his naked glory?

Rachel's smile intensified and became more mischievous. She may be able to kill two birds with one stone.

"Monica. You should come with me."

Monica scoffed and shook her head. "What? Why? He didn't see my boobies."

Rachel, still stung from her own inadvertent flashing of their neighbor, bathed her with an indignant stare.

Monica shrunk a bit in her shoulders and smiled demurely. "I mean, breasts."

Rachel shook her head and closed her eye as she attempted to focus on the task at hand.

"I know he didn't see you this time, but with these two guys coming and going as they please, it's only a matter of time before one of your boobs comes flying out all over the place."

Monica's brow wrinkled at the odd images that flashed in her head. "I'm sorry? My what would be doing what now?"

Rachel gestured dismissively. "You know what I mean. Come on Monica. It'll be twice as humiliating if we both go and see it. Remember Thanksgiving? 1988? We'll finally get your revenge, and no one will have to lose a toe!"

Monica spun around, and even though she knew no one else was in the room, she was still worried about being overheard. "Rachel! Shh!"

"And, if you think about it, he saw both my breasts, but he only has one thing. So, one person sees two boobies, then two people should see one, uh, pee-pee. That's just math."

Monica eyed her roommate suspiciously. "Didn't you flunk math?"

Rachel balled up her fists, gave her best pout, and stomped her foot on the ground. "Oh, come on Monica! Come see Chandler's penis with me!"

Monica raised her hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine. But I'm only doing this for you."

Rachel gleefully spun around as she clapped her hands. She led Monica quickly across the hall, into the boys' apartment, and past Joey's father. He looked up from his newspaper, confused by what was happening, but Rachel quickly dispatched of him with a singsong lift to her voice.

"Hey Mr. Tribbs."

The two of the slid quietly across the floor as they rounded the turn past the kitchen and found themselves at the bathroom door. Rachel tilted her head to listen and nodded as her eyes shined with mischief once she heard the rushing water of the shower. She reached down and slowly squeezed the doorknob, opening the door slowly until there was enough space for them both to slip inside.

As they approached the shower, Rachel smirked as she looked over at Monica. She gestured with her head at the curtain.

Monica, knowing full well Rachel wanted her to pull it back, shook her head "no" with adamant resolve.

Rachel let her eyes bulge as she doubled her efforts. Insisting with every hair on her head that Monica pull the curtain aside.

Monica shook her head in defeat and angrily mouthed "all right" as she reached over and yanked hard on the curtain, pulling it back and smiling with wicked intent.

"Tit for tat Bing!"

Once the figure in the shower became clear behind the steam, both women dropped their jaws and leapt back as they came face-to-thing with Joey.

Joey began to wave his arms about as he attempted to cover himself.

"Woah, what is going on in here….wait…"

He looked over at both Monica and Rachel and then counted to two with his fingers. He allowed a lascivious smile to curl up the corners of his lips.

"Oh man! Who said porno movies don't come true!"

He stood back to make room and gestured for them to join him.

"Okay, who wants to be first. I think we all can probably fit in here but be careful because the tub gets slippery. Mon, you'll probably want to start taking Rachel's shirt off now."

Both Monica and Rachel shuddered as their faces twisted in disgust. Quickly, they stormed out of the bathroom, forcibly pulling the door shut tight behind them.

Monica waved an accusatory finger in Rachel's face. "What the hell was that Green!"

"What! It's not my fault. Ronni said it Chandler was in there!'

They started to bicker over each other, almost unintelligibly as Chandler strolled out of the bedroom in a robe.

"What, uh, what's going on out here?"

Monica looked up as she heard a rapid series of knocks before her door opened. Chandler poked his head through the door with his eyes covered.

"Hello? Is it safe in here?"

Monica rolled her eyes as she tried to stifle a smile. "Yes. Come in."

Chandler chuckled and looked around. "Where is everyone?"

"I don't know. I think Rachel might be working."

"Ah." He nodded as he walked towards the table to join her but stopped when he noticed the crestfallen look on her face. "Hey? Is everything okay?"

Monica straightened up and tried to put on a brave face. "What? Yeah. Well….no. I don't know."

"That clears things up."

Monica shook her head and rolled her eyes once more. "What is the deal with Joey's mom and dad? I mean, isn't that crazy?"

"Don't you think you should be asking Roger that?"

Monica quickly scowled. "I hate that guy."

Chandler quickly nodded in agreement.

"I just...how could she be okay with that?"

"I don't know. Different generation I guess."

"Chandler, when you're from a different generation, you can't use a VCR. You don't want your husband to have a mistress."

Chandler chuckled and nodded. "Well, maybe, I don't know, maybe he is in love with the mistress, but he is still too close with the wife."

"What?"

"Hear me out. The mistress is the one who does it for him, right? But his wife, well, she is like his best friend."

Monica nodded but then quickly shook her head. "Yeah, but, still….ew."

Chandler laughed. "If that turns you off, never ask me about Fourth of July 1978 at the Bing family barbecue."

Monica squinted her eyes at Chandler and shook her head. "I couldn't do that. Could you?"

"What? Have two wives? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Come on Chandler, you know what I mean."

Chandler stammered a bit on his words, fumbling through a series of half-started sentences, until he finally slumped his shoulders and looked across at Monica with a pair of earnest eyes.

"I'd like to think that whoever I ended up with, well, that I'd be in love with them, and they'd be my best friend."

Monica smiled at that. For some reason his words gave her hope, and her heart felt warmed by his sentiment. She looked back at him from across the table.

"You know, I think I want the same thing."

They sat in silence for a moment as they continued nodding. They shared a pair of sheepish grins until Monica's face became still. She let herself sink into his blue eyes and felt something rising inside her. She was not certain what this feeling was, but it compelled her to stretch her hand across the table, almost beckoning him to reach down and clasp her hand in his own.

Chandler became quiet, and he no longer had the smile of a man who was uncomfortable or awkwardly trying to fit inside his own skin. There was a sense of unassuming confidence in his face. He looked down at Monica's hand, and for a moment, it felt as if they were the only two people left in the world. The same feeling he had the night they walked home from the restaurant.

He began to reach for her, unsure if the spell he felt like they were under would be broken the moment they touched, or, perhaps, it would be the final ingredient.

Monica licked her lips, she did not know why, but suddenly, she was feeling a familiar sense of need coming from deep inside her. Unconsciously, she leaned her head towards the middle of the table.

Chandler's eyes went wide, but before he could properly process what was happening, the door to Monica's apartment swung open wildly, pulling them from their trance as they sat back into their chairs.

Phoebe began to stomp around the apartment, waving her arms frantically as words fell from her mouth at such a rapid pace, that neither Monica, nor Chandler could understand her. They both looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

Monica turned around in her chair and chuckled.

"Phoebe?"

"Pheebs, you okay?"

Phoebe stopped her incessant pacing and sat down, her form practically deflated as she sunk deeper into the chair.

"It's Roger…I just…you know…well...I HATE THAT GUY!"