A/N: This was written for my 31 Days of Shipping prompt, Your Platonic Ship.

Beta work was done by Grammarly. The only thing I own in this little tale is the plot.

Be sure to let me know what you think!

Love always,
~starr

Joey jiggled the doorknob to Monica and Rachel's apartment and gave the door a little shove. He let out a groan when the door didn't budge. "Since when do they lock this door?" he grumbled, giving the door a little kick before returning to his own apartment. He slammed the door shut behind him.

"What the hell was that for?" Chandler said, jumping up from the stool at the kitchen counter, shoving the piece of paper he was looking at into his pocket. "What did that door ever do to you?"

"Monica and Rachel's door is locked," Joey huffed, aimlessly spinning the players on the foosball table before sulking over to his recliner.

"They never lock that door," Chandler said, furrowing his brow as he walked over to the door, pulling it open as he looked across the hall. "I wonder what they're up to."

Joey shrugged his shoulders and leaned back into the chair.

"Why did you want to get in there anyway?" Chandler asked, closing the door behind him.

"Monica made lasagna last night," Joey said, pouting his lower lip. "She promised to save me a piece for lunch."

Chandler looked at him for a moment as he cocked his head to the side. He fought back the urge he felt to roll his eyes at his best friend because he knew that food was a very important thing to Joey, especially Monica's lasagna. But he was now sitting in their apartment pouting because he didn't bring the dish over here last night. "Why didn't you bring the lasagna here last night?"

"They never lock their apartment door," Joey sighed. "I figured I'd be able to walk right over and get it whenever I decided I was hungry for it."

"I see," Chandler said, nodding his head as he shoved his hands in his pocket. As he opened his mouth to say something, he saw Joey jump up from the chair and make a beeline for the door. "Where are you going?"

"I have an idea," Joey said, glancing back at Chandler over his shoulder with a smile on his face.

"There's a first for everything," Chandler said, deciding quickly that he needed to follow Joey before he did something incredibly stupid. "Where are you going, Joe?"

"To find Treeger," Joey said, making his way downstairs.

"This is such a bad idea," Chandler groaned, following closely behind him.

"Then why are you coming with me?" Joey asked, glancing back over his shoulder. He paused for a moment on the landing as he waited for Chandler to catch up. "Why is it a bad idea?"

"One of us needs to be able to talk the cops out of arresting you when this inevitably goes wrong," Chandler said, patting Joey on the shoulder gently. "Why can't you just wait for Monica or Rachel to get home and unlock the door."

"I'm starving," Joey replied, his eyes wide as he placed his hand on Chandler's shoulders to give them a squeeze. "Nothing is going to go wrong. I'm gonna tell Treeger that I need to go into their apartment."

Joey stopped in front of Treeger's office door and reached up, rapping his knuckles against the wood. He crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for Treeger to answer the door. As the door opened, Joey painted a smile on his face. "Hey, Mr. Treeger."

"I'll get the plunger," Treeger replied, turning to grab something out of his office.

"Great," Joey said, furrowing his brow as he thought about what Treeger had said before reaching out. "Wait, no. You don't need the plunger. I need to get into Monica and Rachel's apartment."

"Why?" Treeger asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"I smelled smoke," Joey replied, nodding his head.

Chandler's eyes went wide as he realized what Joey had just said. "No, no," he interjected, pulling on Joey's shoulder and moving him out of the way. "He didn't smell smoke."

"Are you sure?" Treeger asked, reaching for the phone. "I can have the fire department here in five minutes."

"He's hungry, and Monica has a lasagna in the fridge," Chandler replied, turning to glare at Joey. "You can't go around telling people you smell smoke!"

"Why not?" Joey huffed. "If it gets me into the apartment, then it works."

"Because the next time there really is a fire, no one is going to believe you," Chandler huffed, pointing Joey to go back up the stairs. "Go back to our apartment and think about what you tried to do. Sorry, Treeger."

"It's okay," Treeger replied, patting Chandler on the shoulder. "Give me a call when Monica gets home. Her lasagna is my favorite."