Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the apartment, just the DVDs. There's no profit except writing practice being made here.
Monica watched as Chandler looped the knot around his neck and smoothed his collar when he was done. There was something about the soft skin of his hands and the silky way the bones of his fingers moved beneath the skin. He was so elegant and beautiful, she had seen it but not known it before they had started dating. How had she not known it two months ago?
She loved watching him get dressed in the morning, fastening and buttoning and pulling up this facade of being straightlaced and professional and naive after a night that proved none of that was true. His clothes were always drab and bland and two months ago she would have fallen for the act but Chandler Bing was anything but prim and proper and clumsy like he wanted the people in his office to think.
He was strong and confident and whispered desirous curses and happily suggested sexy new things for the two of them to try without batting an eye. And only Monica knew.
"Rachel and I were going to check out that new Italian place near my office for lunch," Chandler explained. "How do you feel about maybe going for dinner if it's any good?"
"What are you doing?" Monica approached him with a laugh, "Taking Rachel places to scope out what the restaurant's like before you plan a date there?"
"Yes," he nodded sincerely, that little lippy smile Monica had come to love causing his cheeks to dimple. "Is that okay?"
Monica tossed her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his smile. "You're going to lunch with Rachel?"
Chandler kissed her again, trying to deepen the moment. He was busy chasing her lips and didn't stop to answer her. Instead, he pulled her bottom lip between his and sucked.
Being with him in these quiet morning moments, her hands ruining his combed hair as he tried to get ready for work, made Monica press up on her toes and kiss him deeply, forgetting why they were up so early and hurrying in the first place.
"She doesn't know about us, does she?" Monica pulled her lips just out of his reach when she was struck by the horrifying thought. If Rachel knew about their relationship, everyone would know, and if everyone knew, they'd have to explain the why and how and when, and their morning moments wouldn't be their own anymore. If everyone knew about them, the group would know. They'd know what they were doing when they slipped away for a dinner together or picture them when they slunk off to a bedroom. The last thing Monica wanted was Ross and Phoebe knowing they had sex. It was bad enough that Joey did, he'd send her smirks across the dinner table if they were having whipped cream for dessert. Sure, it wasn't a half-bad idea and had resulted in an electric night, but they didn't really need the input. And if Rachel ever found out about their relationship all their moments alone would turn into girl's gossip nights and none of their moments would be private anymore. But there was something far more unpredictable about Ross and Phoebe and how they would react to their relationship: a freak-out about how disgusting it was, Chandler being her best friend and all, or how exciting it was that she was dating someone who understood her so well, or suggestions that were far less conventional than Joey's (although that would be Phoebe and not her brother).
"Please," Chandler scoffed. "Do you really think she'd be having lunch with me if she knew about us?"
Monica laughed. He was right, of course.
Every so often, Monica used to be struck with ice in her veins and uncomfortable sprinkles to her skin whenever she was reminded that Rachel and Chandler were working their way towards being very close friends. It had been inevitable, she realised. Chandler had told her once that he was going to make an effort to be Rachel's friend for her sake. And he often came over and interrupted their evenings together just to talk. Back before Rachel had moved in, Phoebe would be out on a date or would actively go to bed when Chandler walked in, having experienced how loud and giggly Monica got when the two of them paired up and started talking well into the early hours. But Rachel made an effort to stay, to sit with them and gossip, something about Rachel recognising Chandler was Monica's best friend.
Chandler had explained it to her when she had realised they still had lunch together at least once a fortnight, no malice or ego in his voice. It had come right after he had danced across the table so he was probably subdued for her sake more than anything else. "We both just think you deserve good friends, without all the infighting and drama that can come from having a big group like ours."
He'd said it so breezily and all the tension had melted out of her shoulders. He had followed the statement of his continual efforts for her sake by turning pale, "What am I meant to say? She's going to want to talk about your new secret boyfriend? Monica, what am I meant to say?"
Chandler had ended up cancelling on Rachel, claiming to have a last-minute meeting. But Monica hadn't been jealous. Chandler had a way of explaining things to her and making her see how ridiculous it was to think Chandler could be with anyone but Monica. They were only a few months in and only a handful of people knew about them, the closest people to them not being a part of that club, but Chandler had taken up her hand and looked at her and let her know he was serious about their relationship with a few choice words that sort of implied he had no intention of leaving her.
"Are you really going to want Italian twice in one day?" Monica asked, taking another step away from him. But Chandler gripped her hips and pulled her back to him.
"Pretty sure I need to keep my strength up when it comes to you," he grinned at her, kissing her.
Monica moaned into his mouth, tangling her hands in his soft hair. She liked that he had left a couple of shirts on her floor in his haste to leave her bedroom. It meant she had three of them tucked away in her closet and on mornings like this when they were cutting it close and feeling too lazy to care, he could change for work and she could watch him do it.
"Okay," she laughed, finally managing to pull away from him. "You really have to go."
She pat him on the butt as he turned and walked away from her. "Don't say hi to Rachel for me."
She whispered it with a laugh but was deadly serious. Only the other day, Chandler had told Phoebe that Monica would be running late from work but hadn't supplied a genuine reason for how and why he could have possibly known it.
Rachel sat across the table from Chandler and squinted at him.
She had lunch with him twice a month since she'd moved to an office four blocks from his but the man sitting across from her was not one Rachel recognised.
For starters, he was smiling.
It was slight and just a little pull to his lips but it was there. And, paired with the fact he hadn't complained about Doug yet proved this was a completely foreign man to Rachel.
Was this because of Monica?
He also hadn't brought his own gripes and grievances with his job into the conversation when she picked him up from his office. He hadn't directed her down the stairs instead of the elevator to avoid the guy who called him Toby. He hadn't rolled his eyes at his secretary or divulged little snippets of gossip about Taylor and how offended he was that she hit on everyone but him, complaining that maybe she thought he was gay and wondering how he could prove her otherwise. That was normally a staple of their lunches and yet it hadn't happened. Rachel had the feeling that maybe it wouldn't, that maybe he wouldn't ask for tips on how to not emit the quality of being sensitive and understanding ever again.
Chandler hadn't dropped a fork or flapped his hands, he hadn't spilt his drink when he clinked it with hers. He rolled his tongue around and butchered the foreign language in a very purposeful, clumsy way same as he always did and Rachel rolled her eyes, same as ever. But there was something very different about him.
His hair was golden and his skin was tan and his tie didn't match his shirt at all. He was Chandler Bing but not the boy Rachel had always known. He looked like a professional businessman, sensible and stoic, not the skittish man she had always known him to be.
When she'd overheard the two of them on the phone, Rachel had thought that Monica and Chandler had fallen together as a result of trying to not be alone. They had slipped away for laundry like they weren't trying to hide their sexual relationship and Rachel had wondered how she hadn't seen it. She'd also wondered how Monica had let it happen, this was Chandler after all.
And then she'd overheard them in Chandler's bedroom. Monica was lamenting her inability to tell Rachel about their relationship and she'd called it a capital 'R' Relationship as if it was more than just sex. She had listened as Chandler had agreed to Monica's silly suggestion of telling bigotted jokes to hide their Relationship. Even the implication of Monica protecting her relationship with Chandler by keeping it private had amazed her when Rachel had stopped to think about it. This was Monica, who always bragged and crowed when she had won, Monica who couldn't hold back telling her that the sex had been brilliant, who had a tendency to throw relationships in her and Phoebe's faces especially when they were going nowhere. So for her to not reveal that she was dating Chandler must mean that Monica thought their pairing had potential.
That conversation had shown Rachel a new side of Chandler too. Not that he would do anything for Monica, everybody knew Chandler would do whatever he asked of him. But that he would humiliate himself in order to protect their relationship, allow his friends to think less of him if it would make Monica feel more comfortable. It made her rethink all the silly things she'd seen Chandler do over the years, did he often disparage himself to make one of them feel better?
Studying him from across the table, Rachel could see that Chandler's whole demeanour screamed that he was happy, that he had settled into a stable relationship. He sat straight in his chair and held the menu steady in his hands. He still laughed at her french pronunciation of the Italian terms, provoking her into sticking her tongue out at him. It hadn't happened before, and Rachel was shocked to feel like she was the immature one at the table, not Chandler.
Rachel had wanted to bring Monica up in conversation, just to see if she could flab that seemingly unflappable cover of their secret relationship, catch him a lie or cause him to spill everything to her.
As much as Rachel wanted to talk to Monica about how the hell this had happened between her and Chandler, Rachel knew Monica had a way of expressing himself. His voice would drop low and his eyes would glaze over and that had been when he was talking about Janice and Joanna and Kathy, he'd been happy and sweet and one question could get him talking for a solid half-hour. Rachel had seen him pull the same expression all those years ago when she'd first joined the group and she'd asked him about how not to piss off Monica, she wanted to know if he still did that or if there was another level to how soft his voice would turn when he talked about dating Monica.
He didn't. He sidestepped any conversation about relationships and kept their words focused expressly on Rachel's promotion. "Any progress with the girls at work?"
Rachel shook her head, no. Because of course the girls at work hadn't included her in their little club yet. They'd all been working together for years and Rachel was the new girl, she wasn't married, she didn't have children and she didn't smoke. She didn't fit in. But also because she generally didn't consent to the conversation, she wanted to bring up Monica and see if he blushed and sputtered.
Only, she probably didn't have to. His smile was incongruous and continuous, his skin was glowing. But the real shock was his physical behaviour. She watched as Chandler brushed crumbs off the tablecloth and inspected his fork before he used it, she'd never seen him do that before. He didn't draw attention to it or call over the waiter to replace his fork, but he did polish off the silverware with his napkin before he used it. The way he did it screamed that he'd been spending time with Monica.
No one Rachel had ever dated had taken on her traits so naturally and Chandler and Monica had, speaking like each other, cleaning up messes like each other. They both stood straighter and smiled more and how did she not notice that they both smelt like vanilla body wash? Happiness and unity oozed out of their every pore, making the both of them better, lighter.
"I haven't heard about Monica's boyfriend in a while," Rachel started, squinting at Chandler as he broke off a piece of bread from the basket. "Is he still around?"
"I think so," Chandler shrugged. He didn't blush or look away from her, none of the typical signals that he was lying flared up on his features. "Doesn't seem like he's going anywhere."
She had the sinking feeling that the two of them were twined together and would be for a long while. She should have been happy for her friends, finally having some good luck in the relationship department. But if Chandler said things like that there was no way they were breaking up any time soon, which meant they'd reveal themselves eventually.
Rachel supposed she should start practising her congratulations for the pair of them, smiling and clapping and trying to prove to herself more than anyone else that she wasn't jealous of how close Chandler and Monica had become.