"You're sweet, and smart. and I love you," Monica told him, studying his familiar face across the table. Her words caused a boyish smile to break over his face, and he reached over to place his hands over hers. He looked so hopeful in that moment, and his large hands were so gentle around her own, that she almost failed in her resolve to let him down gently. A joke, go with a joke, she thought.

"But, you will always be.."

"Your annoying friend Chandler?" he cut her off, quietly, squeezing her hands a little before pulling away. His smile was now a little sad, and she felt something tug at her heart. "I know, Mon. It's okay." He gave a little sigh and stood up from the table, their card game abruptly forgotten. "Hey, I'm gonna go take a shower, 'kay? It's getting late, and if we're going to make those dinner reservations we'd better hustle."

He gave her a goofy little wave and headed for the door, and Monica sat frozen to her chair, watching him go. She had to stop him; she couldn't let him go thinking he was nothing more than her 'annoying friend'. He'd taken enough crap from people in his life, girls who rejected him and stomped all over his heart, and she wasn't going to be one of them.

"Wait, Chandler." She was on her feet and moving toward him before her mind had even formulated what she was going to do. He turned around expectantly, his eyebrows raised as she came toward him. He was such a sweet guy, and he deserved so much more -

Barely understanding what she was going to do before she did it, Monica rose on tiptoe, arms loosely around his neck as she kissed him softly on the mouth. She'd meant for it to be reassuring, telling him what words could not about how important he was to her, but his lips were so soft beneath her own and he smelled so good and, god, when did he get so tall? - that suddenly her pulse was skipping a beat and she was moving away slightly to meet his stunned gaze before returning to his mouth, kissing him sweetly and with intent that was anything but 'friendly'. His lips weren't moving, and for an endless moment he stood rigid with his hands hovering just above her waist, helpless - but then something jerked him back to reality and suddenly he was returning her kiss, arms slowly moving around her waist and pulling her closer. It was still a fairly chaste one, as kisses go, but heated nonetheless, and as her tongue traced along his lips requesting entrance to his mouth, his arms tightened around her -

And the door across the hall slammed.

They broke apart in an instant, stumbling away from each other and breathing heavily. Joey made his entrance half a second later, and Monica ducked her head as Chandler swung away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Already making a beeline for the fridge, Joey of course noticed nothing.

"Hey guys," he said, his back to them as he rooted for food. "Mon, do you have any of that leftover casserole?"

"In the. uh. in the plastic container on the second shelf," Monica replied, a little breathless but praying he wouldn't notice.

"Yes!" Joey muttered under his breath, spying the casserole. "You gotta make this more often, Mon. Only put more meat in it next time."

"Joe, we're going to dinner in less than an hour," Chandler said to him, turning back around and meeting Monica's eyes as she lifted her head slowly.

"I'm starving, Chandler! You know I can't wait that long. Rachel will hold us up, and when we finally do get there we'll still have to order and stuff. That's like an hour and a half!"

"Uh huh." Chandler wasn't really listening. He was staring at Monica, silently asking for an explanation that she wasn't ready to give. She shook her head, slightly, and he gave her a searching look before finally nodding. "I'm, ah. I'm gonna go shower."

Joey, micro waving his pre-dinner snack, waved at him over his shoulder. "I think I used up all the hot water when I gave the duck a bath, so have a quick one," he said.

Muttering "thanks man" under his breath, Chandler gave Monica one last look before turning and exiting the apartment.

She moved backwards until her legs hit the couch, and sank onto the back of it, exhaling. That had been one hell of a kiss, and half of her wanted to chase after him, barge into his apartment and finish it properly, while the other half. the other half was absolutely terrified what the repercussions of that spontaneous moment could be.

One thing was for certain. It was going to be hell sitting through dinner tonight.

--

AN: I don't own the characters or the first line or two of dialogue, but the rest is mine. This is fun to write so far. I was inspired by rewatching those beach episodes last weekend; I always found them ironic since London is only a year away. What do you think, should I continue?