Monica stormed into the hallway, followed by Gunther.

"Monica, please, I-I-I never…" Gunther trailed off as he saw Monica's stone-cold expression.

"You think you can just get up a fancy atmosphere and-and seduce me?" Monica sputtered. Kendra had never seen her so angry.

Phoebe's eyes went wide. "C'mon, kids, we'd best get the hell outta here," she whispered.

Alice and Ben exchanged awkward looks. Kendra gave an anguished look at Monica and Gunther. They had not foreseen this outcome.

"Should we tell?" Alice mouthed to Kendra.

"No," Kendra replied.

Phoebe hurried them out the door before they had a chance to say anything else.

Monica and Gunther didn't notice.

Outside, Phoebe looked from Ben to Alice to Kendra. "Right, what's going on?" she demanded, as they began walking towards the cinema.

"What do you mean?" Alice said, innocently.

Phoebe glared at her. "I mean, I saw the looks you were giving each other in there," she said. "And I don't think that Gunther would ever seduce Monica. So what have you done?"

"Nothing," Ben replied. "I mean, how are you to know what Gunther might do, Auntie Phoebe?"

"A-ha!" Phoebe crowed. "You called me 'Auntie Phoebe', that means something's up."

"What?" Kendra queried.

"You don't think I've noticed?" Phoebe remarked. "You normally call me 'Phoebe' or 'Pheebs' or 'Aunt Phoebe' or 'Auntie Pheebs', but never 'Auntie Phoebe' unless something's wrong. Like when you broke Monica's vase, Kendy. Or when Ben tore that hole in his best pants."

"Ew," remarked Alice. "You have best pants?!"

"Yeah," Ben replied. "Mom spent like sixty bucks on them."

"On undies?" Alice exclaimed.

"Undies?" Phoebe laughed. "No, no, sweetie. Pants, like-like, uh, trousers."

"Oh, trousers…" Alice agreed. "Makes more sense."

"So, what have you done?" Phoebe insisted. "Did you set everything up?"

Kendra blushed. "Might've."

"Kendra Cecilia Geller!" Phoebe scolded. "Why?"

Ben spoke up. "'Cause, well, we felt sorry for Auntie Mon."

"Benjamin Thomas Geller!" Phoebe scolded.

"Ph, uh, Phoebe," Alice was still shy about calling Phoebe by her first name. "Phoebe, 'snot like we did it to make Monica mad at Gunther or anythin'."

"That's as maybe," Phoebe replied. "But, still, guys, you've made Monica mad, and probably Gunther too."

"Gunther won't be mad," Ben pointed out.

"He won't be too happy after Monica has yelled," Phoebe said, staunchly. "I think you should apologise when we get back, kids."

The three groaned. "Do we have to?" Alice moaned.

"I hate apologising," Kendra sighed.

"It's so embarrassing," Ben said.

"You're doing it," Phoebe told them. "And I don't care what you say." She paused. "Now then, what movie do you wanna see?"

Back at the Geller-Buffay-Bing residence, Monica was still grilling her sous-chef.

"Mon-Monica, I did nothing," Gunther protested.

"Nothing apart from trying to seduce me – with pizza, of all things! God, Gunther, you're a chef! Can't you think of something more elegant?!" Monica demanded.

"Monica, will you please listen? It wasn't me," Gunther insisted, with more ferocity than he normally used.

"You—what?" Monica finally took in what Gunther was trying to tell her.

"I, I just went in there," Gunther stammered. "And I didn't do it. It was like that when I went in there."

"You're kidding…"

Gunther looked insulted. "No! I, uh, I thought it was you did that."

Monica noticed the embarrassed, and slightly annoyed, look on her friend's face. "Oh! Oh, Gunther, I-I'm sorry."

He looked placated. "'S ok. Just, next time, get your facts straight, Monica, please."

"Next time?" Monica said, absently. In her mind, she was trying to think who could have set this up. "Ben!" she suddenly shouted, remembering his avoidance of her earlier.

"Beg pardon?" Gunther asked.

"I bet Ben did this," Monica said, annoyed. "And Kendra and Alice must've helped."

Gunther looked confused. "But why?"

Monica considered. "I have got no idea, Gunther."

Gunther looked politely puzzled – he didn't really know the Ben and Kendra, except as children he saw every now and then. He felt sorry for Kendra, and always wished that Ben were his.

"Maybe, maybe they felt sorry for me, not having dated in so long – or they felt sorry for you," Monica mused. "Neither of us have terribly active social lives."

"That's true," Gunther replied, not bothering to feel offended.

Monica sighed. "Ugh. So, what, uh, where, what happens now?"

"We decide on menus," Gunther replied, haltingly. Although he still adored Rachel, it had been a thrill to him to think that perhaps Monica had been interested in him. He was starting to realise that Rachel, the married woman, the mother of three, was not going to be accessible to him. He also was realising that he was more in love with the idea of Rachel – the eighteen-year-old that had come into his coffeehouse years ago. He didn't want to be alone for the rest of his life.

Monica nodded. "Uh, ok." She had half-hoped that Gunther had set everything up. She was getting worried about spending her life alone – no one wanted a single mom. It would have been so nice to have someone interested in her for once.

They made their way into the room – still littered with candles. Monica touched a slice of pizza lightly. "Pizza's not cold yet," she remarked. "Might as well eat it."

"Yes," Gunther said, feeling suddenly shy, and a bit lost for words.

They each took a slice, and began to eat. "Nice," Gunther commented.

"Yeah," Monica replied.

Conversation was strained. They both felt unusually shy around one another, even though they'd known each other for years. They'd never encountered anything like this before.

When the pizza was finished, they cleared away in almost complete silence. Finally, Monica broke it.

"This is stupid," she said, annoyed.

"What is?"

"This," she said, waving her hand about impatiently. "Look, so the kids made us a romantic dinner. Forget about it! It's not as though they lured us into bed or anything. There's no need to feel embarrassed." She paused. "Is there?"

"Mmm," Gunther made a slight sound in his throat.

Monica noticed his hesitance, and knew that his expression was probably mirroring hers.

"M-maybe…" Gunther began, but was cut off by the phone ringing.

Saved by the bell, Monica thought, and somewhere inside she laughed at the corniness of it all. "I'll, ahem, I'll go get that," she spluttered, trying to catch her breath. For some reason, she was short of breath, and her heart was pounding inside her.

"H'lo?" she answered the phone. "Geller-Buffay-Bing residence."

"That's a mouthful!" Chandler's voice came over the phone, cheerier than normal.

"C-chandler, hey," she replied.

She heard him gasp. "Oh, Mon, I'm sorry, it's your day with Gunther, isn't it?" he asked. "Oh, I'm really sorry!"

"No, nah, don't worry," she said, breathing deeply.

"Well, I'm just calling to tell you that I won't be here for dinner," he explained. "I've got a date – this cute girl, Lane Phelps, from work, she asked me out, I've liked her for a while, I thought it was time I moved on, so, anyway, uh, Lane and I are going out for dinner."

"Oh." Monica felt suddenly down. "Right. Ok."

"Mon?" Chandler sounded concerned. "Are you ok?" He paused. "You're not, not – you're ok with this, right?"

Monica gave a false sounding laugh. "Yeah, Chandler, don't worry! You and me, that-that was years ago."

"Oh, good, 'cause I wouldn't want to think I was hurting you," Chandler replied.

"You're not," Monica said. "Do, uh, do you want me to pick Shawn up?"

"Oh, would you?" Chandler asked, gratefully.

"Sure – four isn't it?"

"Yup. 'Kay, gotta go," he added. "See ya, Mon."

Monica hung up, feeling alone. She had always thought that Chandler would stay single – or turn to her.

"Monica?" Gunther asked, upon seeing her face. She looked so – so sad, he thought. "Are you ok?"

Chandler had said that. Monica fought the urge to break down in tears. "Mmm," she murmured.

"Wh-what's the matter?"

Monica shook her head. "N-nothing. I'm fine, Gunther."

And then, before she knew what was happening, before he knew, before either of them knew what was happening, they were close – closer. Hands met, and joined. They could feel each other's breathing, hear their hearts beating. Lips met, arms intertwined. They were there, they'd never expected it to happen, but neither was stopping it. Chandler was forgotten, Rachel was forgotten, they thought only of each other. And when Gunther reached for the buttons of Monica's blouse, she didn't stop him. And he didn't stop her when she did the same to his shirt.

The plan had worked.

Lane: to move on