Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the apartment, just the DVDs. There's no profit except writing practice being made here.
"You know," Chandler started when he felt Monica's arms come around his waist, her hands clasping at his navel. "Next weekend it's a whole year since we decided we'd have a family."
He was careful not to reference the start of a very sad journey for the two of them, but he did think the anniversary begged celebration. Plus, it was Emma's birthday on Saturday and he didn't want to be around to celebrate it and he knew Monica felt the same. They had a present bought for the girl that they could give Rachel and Ross, but the parents hadn't planned a party or anything, so Chandler figured he could get Monica out of that happy environment for the day without needing to explain that, while happy for their friends and completely adoring their niece, Emma's first birthday was a terrible reminder of how long they had tried to have a baby and their recent bad news, while their friends had not suffered, not even wanted a child, not the way he was desperate for one. And definitely not the way Monica had always wanted a baby, it was a cruel joke of the universe that it wasn't going to work for them and Chandler wanted to take Monica out to dinner or for a Broadway show or something, to get her out of any conversations where she'd have to be happy for others while having her heart inadvertently broken all over again.
Monica's hum reverberated along his spine. "I know." Her hands ran up to the bottom of his sternum and came back down to his belly button, caressing his cotton shirt against his skin. "Last week I booked us a reservation for the weekend."
"What?" He queried softly, putting the plate he was scrubbing in the other basin of the sink to rinse the soap off.
"Because of that promotion you got, too."
He felt her lips press against the middle of his back and flushed with pride. The promotion didn't sound like much, but he'd only been working the job for six months and already they were trusting him with more responsibility. Add to that how much Chandler loved this job, and he was actually happier than he'd been in a long time, all the stars aligning for him just right. Except for the fact that he couldn't get Monica pregnant.
Even then, they had a solution to that, the pair of them deciding they wanted to adopt a child and build their family that way. Deciding on which firm to adopt with was difficult, and then they faced the open versus closed adoption question. Chandler wanted an open adoption, that way they met the parent beforehand and could ease their anxiety about the thirty-day change-of-mind clause the biological mother could employ. Monica worried that an open adoption might lead to contact forced by the biological parents, but they'd done their reading and realised it didn't, but a closed adoption didn't allow for any contact until the child was eighteen. The pair of them didn't want to deny their future child anything. They knew firsthand from Phoebe's friend, all about how leaving the discussion about a child's adoption could foster the feeling of betrayal, and they didn't want that. If their child was twelve and wanted to seek out their biological mother, they didn't really want to barricade that. And the safest way to do that, for their own peace of mind, was an open adoption. It was more expensive but also a lot more like surrogacy, they would get to know the mother all through the pregnancy, and therefore would have some peace of mind when it came to the mother possibly asking for the baby back in that first month, or their child getting to know their biological parents in the future.
After that, the checks and balances were numerous and the application was gruelling but their name was on a list and Chandler wanted to celebrate that.
"You're something else," his voice was low, whispered. "You know that?"
Monica's arms tightened around him. "Now I know it's a little fancier than we're used to, but I feel like we've got quite a bit to celebrate, you and I."
"Sounds great."
"And I was thinking," her hands flattened against his stomach, working under his T-shirt so her warm palms pressed against his hot skin, rubbing right across his waistband. "We don't even have to tell anyone. We could just sneak away like we used to."
Her pinkie dipped beneath his belt and Chandler hissed. Her soft touch was electric and punctuated her point perfectly. His voice was about an octave lower than usual when he responded breathily, his mind halfway in the gutter, "That sounds lovely."
She hummed against his back and Chandler shivered, fumbling for the next dish but dropping it back in the soapy water. Monica's hand remained spanning his lower abdomen while the other smoothed up his chest under his shirt. He could feel her purse her lips against his spine, his mind fogging completely as she pulled him closer to her body, her chest flush against his back.
"So," Chandler asked when he found his voice. "Where are we off to?"
"Up near Maine," she replied quickly. Chandler scrubbed the last dish and dropped it in the rinsing basin, swapping it for the plate that was already in there, lifting it out of the water and stacking it in the drying rack as Monica's hands stroked his stomach. He placed the last dish in the rack, then pulled the plug from both basins and dried his hands on a tea towel.
Her hands let his T-shirt fall back over his skin and rubbed up his chest slowly until Monica could hold him by the front of his shoulders. She pulled him down a little, tugging him backwards slightly, and Chandler felt her rise up behind him to press a kiss on the back of his neck. "I'm so proud of you, babe."
Chandler hummed, turning around in her arms. With both hands against her hip bones, Chandler bent down to kiss his wife. Proud of him? All he was doing was trying his best at work, trying to provide for his family. But Monica? Damn, he was proud of her. Monica, instead of wallowing in her grief or blaming him or herself, dove right into the deep end of looking for alternative methods of having a family with him.
Her hands clawed at his shoulder blades, forcing his body against hers as he leant over her, his lips toying with hers. He tried to kiss her softly, to take his time just nipping at her top lip. But Monica opened her mouth beneath his, pulling him down to meet her lips hard, and Chandler wasn't about to deny his wife a passionate kiss if that was what she wanted. The heels of his hands pushed at her hips as Chandler pulled Monica's bottom lip between his teeth. He dragged the plump flesh away from her mouth and then pushed it back, coaxing her mouth open with his lips glued to hers. He rubbed his thumbs along the waistband of her pants, stroking the satiny skin of her stomach as their lips coaxed little moans out of each other. Monica breathed heavily through her nose as Chandler touched his tongue to the tip of hers, caressing along the softness beneath her tongue as he walked her backwards.
Chandler pushed Monica up against the fridge and grunted at the sweet little sound she made. She panted against him and Chandler shivered forward as her hands scratched down his clothes back, urging him to press his whole body against hers. One of his arms came around her waist so he could hold her lower back, pulling her against him. Sharing a long, open-mouthed kiss, Chandler lifted his other hand to cradle her head, angling her lips just so beneath his. Monica panted heavily as Chandler pulled away, smirking. "Exactly how proud?"
Monica chuckled, the sound sultry and shooting electricity to his core. Gripping under his arms to hold his shoulders tightly, she wound her legs around his waist, "Let me show you."
It was Thursday night, they were leaving the following evening after their shifts at work, so they could catch a late train and stay for both Saturday and most of Sunday in their hotel room. She and Chandler went away all the time, but Monica was still just as excited as she had been the first time he asked her to get away from the drone of the city with him for a weekend.
Monica crossed her ankles at the entrance to their pink-painted bedroom and watched her husband's tall frame at their shared closet. She stabbed the point of her shoulder against the doorframe and stayed silent as Chandler filled their suitcase with clothes for the pair of them to take.
He moved gracefully, something Monica didn't think any of their friends understood. Chandler was nimble and every movement was well-placed and well practised. She wanted him pull a pair of leggings out of her drawer, bending over slowly to deposit them in their luggage. Chandler's limbs were long, arms stretching out like a dancer in a painting, with his sleeves rolled, his exposed arms bordering on pornographic. She licked her lips. Watching him pack a bag was a small luxury, she didn't let him do it often. Not for a lack of trust, Chandler was the only person Monica let anywhere near her perfectly organised drawers. They'd been away on enough of these weekends that they both knew what they needed to take with them and he knew her well enough to know the things she was most comfortable wearing. Chandler, in fact, was the only person Monica wouldn't check the work off. Monica would do the entire job for Joey, help Rachel whittle her clothes down to a manageable amount, she would remind Phoebe to pack clothes as well as her survival supplies, and she'd refold everything of Ross' once he thought he was done. Not chandler, he knew what he was doing, Monica simply didn't give him time to do the packing normally, it was a little way she could take care of him and show him how much she loves him if she could wrap up the things that made him the most comfortable and relaxed as possible, surprising him that she paid such close attention every time she did it.
Chandler's spine straightened as he headed back to the closet and stretched for the hangers, reaching for a coat or an evening dress. Their eyes met as his left hand pulled down a black slip Monica liked to wear. Monica smiled at the choice and smiled wider when she found her husband twisting a lopsided grin at her.
"Hi," his voice whispered across the space.
She replied in the same light tone. "You know, you probably don't need to pack those clothes."
"You always say that, hon," he chuckled. "And then your legs get cold and the blanket isn't enough, or we find a cool little scenic spot, or it snows like it did that one time."
She relented him that. Monica almost commented that if he didn't pack anything for her, she wouldn't have an option of anything else to wear on their anniversary trip. And then she paused, realising that a bag full of t-shirts and jeans would hide her new lilac lace lingerie. And she could stuff that magazine Joey had bought as a prank gift to give Chandler tips in the folded fabric, even though she knew the both of them had that one particular article memorised.
Monica was so looking forward to the expression on Chandler's face, the cluelessness giving way to surprise, a flash of love and admiration, and then lust, pure unbridled passion clouding over him. Chandler had suggested they follow one of the articles that outlined how they could better please each other and Monica had spent the week trying to talk him out of his excitement, pretending she was less than interested, that she wouldn't even deign to look at the magazine, while secretly she had the whole evening planned from the moment they locked the hotel door and followed the detailed instructions of the article she had memorised.
"Now," Chandler asked. "Are we giving Emma her present before we go, or after we get back?"
Monica stepped into their bedroom and sat on the bed, watching Chandler from behind, his shirt riding up his back to reveal a pale strip of skin, dimpled around his spine, as he lifted a sweater from the bottom drawer.
"Before, I think," Monica suggested, Chandler turning around to listen to her. "We'll meet downstairs after work tomorrow afternoon, we'll hand over that robot puppy you bought and then we'll grab our bags and head off."
"Do you think Rachel is going to be upset we won't be there on the day?" Chandler came over and sat beside her.
"Nah, it's Thursday," Monica replied, kissing his cheek as she realised she hadn't greeted him properly since she arrived home. "If Rach had planned something she would have told us. You can't just throw a party together last minute. If she was doing anything, she'd need decorations and a cake and she hasn't asked for help or for anyone to save the date. Actually, she hasn't even mentioned Emma's birthday."
"Yeah, I thought that was a bit weird. I was fishing to see if she had anything planned," Chandler explained. Monica, with her hands folded in her lap, leant over and pecked her husband's cheekbone. He probably thought he was being so smooth searching for clues in a conversation with Rachel, had probably been really unsubtle too, even though they had agreed it was a little difficult to explain they wanted to celebrate the anniversary they started trying and the selection of the adoption agency they were going to use, because of which, they'd rather not tell anyone that they were going away at all. Then again, Chandler Bing had two settings; unsubtle and uncoordinated, or completely hidden behind a humourous defence, so perhaps he hadn't given anything away and instead confused Rachel too much for her to detect his hints. But he was a terrible liar, her husband, and a worse secret keeper, traits she adored in him but traits that meant his hands flailed and his words jumbled frantically if he was trying to hide something. Rachel probably figured something was up. "I was being pretty obvious that I was talking about Saturday, but she didn't say anything."
Monica chuckled. "Do you think we should postpone 'til tomorrow? It's not like Rachel would keep Emma up late at night, so if anything it'd be in the middle of the day that we celebrated. What if we grab some muffins, stay for brunch, sing the song and then head off before lunch?"
Chandler shook his head, his right arm stretched behind her, his hand against the mattress behind her back, as he leant slightly backward. Monica had to crane her head slightly to meet his eyes, but she was not disappointed when she did. His smile was slight, his eyes crinkled at the edges and he was leaning toward her, his nose touching her cheek as his lips found the soft skin beside her lip. "Nope."
"No?"
"What's that thing you always say?" His smirk have away his cheeky demeanor but Monica was too busy trying to dampen the tingles that spread from the place his lips had touched, across her face and down her neck. "'Chandler has a huge social calendar so you better plan early or he might not be able to make it'?"
Monica shook her head, breathlessly laughing at her husband. It was a silent, gasping laugh, full and overwhelming, but it displayed quickly and Monica opened her eyes to look at the man beside her, her head slightly tilted from when she tossed it backwards with her amusement. That wasn't what she said at all, it was a version of it, sure, but riddled with an overinflated ego that Monica knew Chandler didn't actually have. She normally said, 'An early plan allows everyone to come and gives time for any mistakes to be fixed.' Monica knew all too well from her days in middle school, that if you didn't give two weeks notice for a birthday party, people didn't attend. And she knew from her catering days, that if anything went wrong, like a fingernail going missing in one of the quiches, a little extra time gave the host time to rectify the issue.
"I want my whole weekend with you," he told her. " Let's not make contingencies for what isn't going to happen. It takes a couple of days to plan a party, one at least, Rachel would have said something. We're fine."
"Okay," she beamed at him. The plan stayed was it was, and Monica was finally beginning to understand why Chandler got so much enjoyment from derailing some of the little activities she organised for them. Early on in their relationship, Monica had learnt that Chandler Bing was easily the most attractive man she had ever met, doubly so when he was commanding and organised and insisting that she put her feet up while he did all the work. The one thing that was better? The cute way he thought he worried he was being annoying when he switched her plans on her, when in actuality he was elevating them. And now it was her turn. Chandler thought he had the whole two days prepared and planned and Monica was looking forward to dropping her bathrobe and wrecking them, taking charge instead.
She lay her hand on top of his hand behind her, tracing her fingers up the sharp muscle of Chandler's forearm. "This weekend's going to be great."
"You know what would make it better?" Chandler asked, grinning, leaning his face close to hers. "I read this thing in Maxim-"
Monica pressed her hand to Chandler's chest and pushed him away from her, laughing at his words but also the way he flopped backwards on top of the mattress, exasperated. "It's not going to happen."
Monica fell down to her left elbow, looking down at her husband from her spot lying beside him. She stIll sort of worried about Rachel and Ross, the two of them were notorious for last minute plans and holding grudges if you didn't do what they wanted or they didn't get their way. Chandler pressed up on his elbows, halfway sitting up. "Whatever you're thinking, forget it. We deserve this weekend away, and once we get picked and get our baby, we're not going to get to have much time to ourselves."
Monica beamed at Chandler, whose every thought seemed to be of their family and their future. His eyes were bright blue and smiling back at her. "You're something else."
Turned out that Rachel did have something planned, or planned it last minute. Chandler had a bad feeling it was him fishing to see if she had organised anything for Emma that reminded her she should be doing something. It was fine, honestly. Chandler hadn't wanted Monica in that environment, having her inability to have a baby of her own shoved in her face with a cake and a party, but they had delayed their train trip anyway.
The pair of them got stuck taking care of Emma, something they absolutely loved but simultaneously broke their hearts. Chandler watched Monica cuddle with the baby and wished he could change their circumstances somehow, give her the baby she so desperately craved, give himself the family he needed.
So, they didn't end up catching their train until the following morning. They gained something far better.
Chandler got to see that he could do more than just the easy parts of taking care of a baby. He changed and fed Emma all the time, looking after and playing with her when Ross and Rachel were at work and he wasn't, but the girl was close to talking and she was actually cognitively responding to what he was saying. His heart soared, fluttering against his ribcage, completely in awe of how smart the girl was. Not only was she a little adult already, very clearly becoming her own individual person, but he had a positive influence on her. Chandler Bing, who barely made a mark on the world, was helping this little girl become her own person. That blew him away.
Plus, holding Emma solidified Monica's understanding of what having a baby would entail for the two of them. They had to feed her and Chandler got to practice burping her and changing diapers. He got to watch as Monica held herself back from freaking out about the infant's mess, and instead taught her niece to tidy up, which Chandler watched fondly. She sat cross-legged on the floor, Emma in her lap, her brown hair shining in the yellow light, and Chandler watched as Monica completely came alive. Her smile was pained to begin with, clearly aching for a closer connection than just being an aunt, but Chandler got to see Monica untether all of that sadness like she was throwing down boxing gloves, finished with fighting but not despondent.
"We're going to have a baby," she was so confident. "All we have to be is a little patient."
Monica wasn't a patient person, and Chandler knew how difficult the whole ordeal would be for her, given that she had been waiting for a baby all her life. But it was going to happen for them.
"Someone's going to pick us," he agreed. He knew it. He might ruin their chances, he wasn't much of a father or a confidence-inspiring, mature presence, but Monica's maternal instinct bled through her every movement and there was no way anyone could miss that.
"I'd pick you," Monica grinned. "Over everybody else, I'd pick you."
Chandler blushed at how much confidence his wife had in him. It amazed him that Monica could see so much potential in him, that she thought he deserved the world. If anybody deserved to reach their dreams and never see a cloudy day, it was Monica. He meant to tell her he loved her, it was the only thing he could really reply with, but it came out as, "I'd choose you."
And one day soon, someone else was going to choose the two of them. He was certain of it. Until then, they had a reservation to change and to call in sick so they could get Monday off and still have their weekend away.