The One With The President
Chapter Nine
By: Jana~
*****
--Monica strolled into the room and struck a pose, leaning against the door frame in a bright red, soft flannel robe cinched tightly around her waist.
"Merry Christmas." Her deep sultry voice caused Chandler to spin around.
His smile grew when he saw her. "Happy Hanukkah," he returned, approaching her slowly.
She ran her hands up his arms when his came to rest on her hips. "Ready for your present?" she asked.
He fought to keep a grin from exploding across his face. "And where is my present?"
She raised her eyebrows suggestively, then took one step back, striking a pose for him once again, one hand on her hip, the other in the air.
He smirked as he fingered the red sash on her robe. "Nice bow," he complimented, his eyes locked on hers as he slowly pulled the tie loose.
When the robe fell open, he inched his hands under the soft flannel, placing them on her shoulders, slowly pushing the robe down her arms. She assisted the robe in falling to the floor, standing before Chandler in nothing but a gold negligee and a smile.
"You like?" she asked, and he allowed his eyes to wander away from her face.
"I love," he breathed, his eyes returning to hers before leaning in to kiss her.
Even though he was referring to the lingerie, to Monica, his comment was like a step forward in their relationship.
"I love you, Chandler," she whispered, working the buttons on his shirt as she nuzzled up to his neck.
He tensed slightly at the whispered words of love, but her lips and breath on his neck relaxed him quickly, before she noticed. He wondered briefly if she would be expecting him to say it in return, but as she continued with her affections, the question soon left his mind.
***
--He watched her sleep, her peaceful expression and pale complexion creating an angelic appearance to her in the dim candlelight of the room.
Quietly, so as not to wake her, he slipped out of bed and threw on a robe, heading for his rec room, hoping that playing a few hands of darts would help clear his mind.
She said 'I love you', just mere hours before, and his reaction to her words was still bothering him. He said nothing to her, not even 'thank you'. He scoffed at how ridiculous that would have sounded, to say 'thank you' in response to 'I love you'.
He headed immediately for the dartboard upon entering the room, giving himself a moment to focus before throwing the first dart.
How could he say nothing in response to her declaration of love? What kind of man does that? He just made love to her, not once acknowledging or reciprocating her words. Was that wrong of him? Was she upset with him? What would he say to fix it if she was?
After throwing the last 2 darts hard at the board, he moved over to the crystal carafe of scotch, pouring himself a finger of the liquor and knocking it back quickly.
Why did he always feel the need to run as soon as a relationship became serious? He'd done the same thing to Janice, back before the election. He tried to convince himself that it was the stress of the campaign, and because of her braying laugh and annoying personality, but deep inside, he knew it was because of panic that he broke it off.
He snatched the darts off the board and began again, throwing them hard in frustration. He missed the bullseye every time, and he scoffed at his poor score as he splashed another finger of scotch into his glass.
"Here's to sucking royal," he toasted the dartboard, holding up his glass briefly before downing the drink in one gulp. The warmth of the liquor spread quickly through his body, warding off the chill of the cool room.
He stared at the door for a few moments, knowing he had to get back to Monica. If she woke up and he wasn't there, she would worry. He pushed off the stool he had been leaning on and headed for the door, his mind no more clear than it was when he had left the warm bed and Monica's side.
--As quietly as a mouse, he entered the room, peeking at the bed to see if Monica was still asleep. His eyes not adjusting at first to the dim lighting, he squinted as he tried to make out her features.
"Where did you go?" she asked, and he sighed as he shed his robe and crawled into bed with her.
"Nowhere," he replied, snuggling up to her. "Go back to sleep."
"Are you ok?" she asked around a yawn, and he mimicked her, the yawn contagious.
"Yeah," he replied, sliding his cold body up against her warmth. "Just have some stuff on my mind."
She shivered, reacting to the chill he brought with him. "Wanna talk about it?"
He shook his head just slightly as his was nestled against hers. "Nah, I'm fine, really."
"K," she murmured sleepily, relaxing and allowing sleep to envelop her.
He kissed her temple, holding her tightly to him, protectively. He didn't know if it was love he was feeling, but whatever it was, one thing was certain, he couldn't imagine his life without her.
*****~*****
--"You have the speech at Raney Elementary School about literacy this Friday," Phoebe informed as she plucked through the pages of the agenda she seemed to always have in hand.
"Just a quick speech," Ross added, "Read a little with a few of the students, good photo op there--"
"And I have the rough draft of the speech," Joey interjected, "If you want to take a look and see if there's anything you wanna add or change…"
"And then after that we have the luncheon meeting with the representatives from Greenpeace about the fossil fuels bill--"
"Sounds good," Chandler interrupted Ross, his mind obviously elsewhere.
"You ok?" Joey asked, scowling at Chandler's odd demeanor.
Chandler stared at the papers in front of him. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Ross inquired, concerned.
Chandler dropped the papers on the table. "Yes."
"Do you feel sick?" Joey asked.
"No."
"Is everything ok with Monica?" Ross asked.
Chandler huffed, "Yes! I said everything is fine, alright?!" He pushed the papers that sat atop the table at a distance, then stood and walked towards his office window, staring out.
The shortness of his reply and the action that followed immediately worried Phoebe.
"Guys?" she directed the word at Ross and Joey only. "Will you excuse us?"
They waited only briefly to see if Chandler would object to them leaving, but when he only sighed deeply, they quickly stood.
"No problem," Ross muttered, then he and Joey made a hasty retreat.
--"What do you think is wrong with him?" Joey asked Ross as they stood outside the closed office door.
"I don't know," Ross admitted, "But he's been acting weird since just after Christmas."
"If he was sick," Joey inquired worriedly, "He would tell us, right?"
"He's not sick, Joe."
"Maybe Monica is sick?" Joey suggested.
"Rachel would have said something to me if she were," Ross replied. "Let's not get all worked up, ok? We'll wait and see what Phoebe finds out first."
Joey nodded. "Alright."
--"Something's bothering you," Phoebe stated as if fact. "You've been moping around since Christmas. And you're all tense," she added as she placed her hand on his shoulder, standing behind him.
"I'm fine, Pheebs," he replied with a heavy sigh, an indication he didn't wish to discuss the matter. But she wasn't about to let it drop.
"A tense leader makes for a careless leader," she told him as she began working his knotted muscles. "Out with it," she ordered. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he mumbled, his head hanging loosely as Phoebe continued her massage.
She took him by the shoulders and led him to a chair, forcibly seating him as she pushed down on him. "I beg to differ," she said firmly, unyielding. "Talk to me."
He sighed again, but it was more from relief than from irritation, Phoebe's massage feeling incredible. "Monica told me she loves me," he admitted after a moment's pause.
She waited for him to continue, but when he didn't, when she realized that was his entire disclosure, she scoffed slightly. "So, she said she loves you," she muttered. "Isn't that a good thing?"
"I guess," Chandler agreed in words, but not in tone. "I just- I wasn't expecting it."
"Oh, yeah," she jeered, "You've only been going out for 5 months! It's inconceivable that she would say that now!"
He shook his head. "When she said it, I said nothing in return."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, she said 'I love you', and I said nothing!"
"Why?"
"Why didn't I say it back you mean?" he asked. "Because I just don't think I'm ready yet."
"What's the big deal? They're just words."
"Words that mean something!" he shot back.
"I know that, Chandler. I'm not suggesting they don't--"
"I have to feel it to say it!" he exclaimed, interrupting her.
"Well, ok, so, how do you feel about her?" she asked supportively.
"I like her. I really, really like her."
She nodded. "But you don't love her?"
"I don't know," was his eventual response.
"Ok, let me ask you this," she started a new approach to the conversation, her hands working their magic down his spine. "Do you like spending time with her?"
"Yes, of course."
"Do you find yourself thinking about her?"
"Only almost all the time," he admitted.
"When you're around her," she asked, "Does your heart race?"
He smiled. "Sometimes." His smile grew. "Most times," he added.
Phoebe patted his hand. "Hon, you're in love."
He stood up abruptly, the smile leaving his face as he started pacing.
"Is that such a bad thing?" she asked, watching as he nervously dashed about aimlessly.
"I didn't exactly have good role models when it came to stuff like this," he confided in his friend. "My mom and dad divorced when I was 9. My mom has been remarried 4 times! My dad has had more gay partners than I can count! Love means marriage," he added. "Doesn't it?"
"Well, it can and sometimes does lead to marriage, but it doesn't have to," she replied. "Just because you are in love with someone, and they you; just because you feel and say those words, it doesn't mean you have to go pick out the ring!"
He shrugged, "I guess."
"Chandler, you are neither of your parents, alright? Just because they can't make a relationship work doesn't mean you can't! The inability to commit isn't hereditary!"
"I know that, Pheebs, it's just-- I have a poor record with this. Commitment I mean." He paused before continuing. "Remember Janice?"
She chuckled softly. "Yeah, but she was annoying!"
Chandler smiled briefly, but worry took over his expression once again. "Maybe, but fact remains, I broke up with her cause it got serious! I just… I don't want to hurt Monica like that."
"Like what?"
"Like, I date her for all this time, and she thinks it's going somewhere, leading somewhere, but then I just chicken out and run! Cause I can't go the distance."
"When the time comes," she told him, with a wisdom to her voice that demanded attention, "All of this will be a moot point."
He scowled just slightly. "What does that mean, exactly?"
"When the time comes, you will know what it means," she answered vaguely, again.
"Is this a psychic thing?" he asked with the slightest of grins.
She smiled in return. "Maybe."
"You're a great friend," he said as he hugged her. "I love you."
She pulled back from his embrace. "You can say it to me! Why not her?"
"That's different," he explained. "I'm not sleeping with you."
There was a hint of a smirk as she threw him a sideways glance.
"Ok," he conceded. "I'm not sleeping with you anymore…"
TBC
Ok, I know some are looking for Chandler to be more 'political', but I'll tell'ya, what I know about politics, you could shove in my left ear and still have room to spare. So, in the interest of not looking like too big an idiot, I am veering away from the political aspect and dealing moreso with the emotional/relationship aspect, which is what my original goal for this project was from the start.
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