"Wake up," Rachel announced, plopping down onto Chandler's bed.
"G'way," he mumbled into his pillow. Rachel shook his arm.
He rolled over and blinked. "Okay, this new little habit of yours, with the materializing in my bedroom? Gotta stop."
"Oh c'mon, c'mon, Chandler, get uuuuup," Rachel wheedled, pulling at his wrist. "Pleeeeeeease? I've got a plan!"
"I had a plan too! It involved sleeping for at least four more hours!"
"Get up right now, or... I'm pulling off my top and moaning your name *really* loudly."
Chandler groaned and threw the covers aside. "You *would* be the only woman who says this stuff to me." He ran his hand through his hair. "So what's your magical mystery plan?"
"We should go to a bar."
"Look... despite Joey's claims to the contrary, beer is *not* a breakfast food."
"No, no, no. For one thing, it's four p.m., lazy-ass. And another, okay, I'm not talking about a *bar* bar, y'know, I'm talking about a... *baaaaar* bar."
"A *crucial* semantic distinction *not* always appreciated."
"Will you stop? I'm talking about a..." she lowered her voice, "*gay* bar."
Chandler raised an eyebrow. "Look, Rach... if you can't say it at full volume, you probably don't want to go there."
"Fine," she sighed. "Gay bar, gay bar, gay bar. I want to go to a gay bar. Chandler, would you like to go to a gay bar? I'm going to a gay bar. You should accompany me to a gay bar. It's gay, and it's a bar. Gay bar."
He couldn't resist. "Now, where do you want to go again?"
Rachel let out a little scream of annoyance and stood up. "Never mind. Never mind! I'll ask Phoebe. At least it'll be *quicker*."
"Rach, stop." He stood up and reached for his pants. "Why, why do you want to go to a gay bar?"
"To, y'know! All that stuff we talked about last night! To find out! Aren't you curious?"
"A straight-arrow *decade* passes between your bisexual half-hour and now, and suddenly you're all fired up to go... fishing for lesbians? What is *with* you all of a sudden?"
"Well, I..." Rachel nibbled her fingernail. "Now I'm not, y'know, alone."
"I'm your *Gayness Buddy*?" Chandler cried indignantly.
"I wouldn't phrase it like that..."
"I would!"
"Chandler, please? C'mon, just once? Aren't you even the teensy weeniest bit curious?"
"To find out what it's like to be stabbed six hundred times with a dinosaur bone? Shockingly, no!"
"Look, we don't have to *do* anything. In fact, we'll... we'll make a pact that we won't. We'll just go, y'know, look around, see how we feel... and then just go home, right? No harm done, no big deal."
"In Bizarro World!"
"Chandler, I'm trying to get you to come with me to a place where there is beer *and* women kissing each other! Why is this so difficult?"
"Why are we even having this conversation? I'm sorry, Rach, this is just... this isn't you at all."
"Why isn't it me?" Rachel demanded, hands on hips.
"Because it's not, that's why! You're just... you know..."
"I'm *what*?"
"Very... vanilla."
"I am *sick* of being vanilla!" Rachel screeched. "Chandler, don't you get it? You say this isn't me, well... good! I don't want to stay the same forever, I want to do something *different*, I want to try new things!"
"So get a haircut! Being bi isn't a... whimsical adventure!" He paused. "Unless, of course, you're my dad."
"Chandler, look. I'm going to the damned gay bar. You can come with me and maybe answer some of the questions you're asking yourself, or you can stay here and mope around. Either way." She put her hand on the doorknob.
"Rach, wait. I'll go with you. Just let me put on a shirt."
***
Rachel looked up and waved as Chandler returned from the bathroom, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Um... is it just me, or is everyone here straight? Maybe we shouldn't have picked this place out of the phone book."
"No, no," he whispered back, "Just got back from the bathroom, definitely a gay bar."
"Ooooh!" she said excitedly. "You saw stuff?"
"Uh-huh."
"And...? How'd you feel...?"
"Like my hands were wet, 'cause they were blocking the paper towel dispenser...?"
"Chandler," Rachel huffed in disappointment, hitting him lightly. She pointed to a guy across the bar. "What about him? He's cute."
"Yeah, I guess..."
"Chandler!"
"I'm sorry! This is weird! What about you, you picked out anyone?"
Rachel played with her straw. "Not really..."
"Yuh-huh, so don't be judging me, okay?"
"God, this really is weird," Rachel sighed. "Maybe this was a stupid idea."
"Well, but hey -- would you feel any more comfortable trying to pick up strange guys in a bar?"
"I never had to pick up guys, they always came for me," Rachel said quietly.
"Hate you, by the way," Chandler grinned.
"Well, maybe... maybe people assume we're straight? I mean, we came together, we've been together all night, we're obviously out of our element..."
"Ah, yes, well, I'll fix that, let me pull my 'Bi-Curious Signal' out of my pocket..."
"Hi, gorgeous," a voice directly behind them said.
"Hi," Rachel and Chandler said in unison, whirling towards the source of the voice, a top-heavy redhead.
"Oops," Rachel blushed, putting her hand over her mouth. "Um... which one of us were you talking to?"
"Well... both of you, maybe," the girl said, a slow smile spreading over her face. "Do you work as a team?"
Chandler and Rachel shot each other a stunned look.
"Um... we hadn't really thought about it..." Chandler replied.
"Well, think about it," the girl laughed. "I'll be over there."
Chandler and Rachel watched the girl slink off, and turned to each other with eyebrows soaring.
"Um, excuse me, guys," the bartender said, leaning in, "None of my business, but... soopa-skank. If that's your thing, cool, but, y'know, safety first."
"Thanks," Rachel said awkwardly.
"So do you guys? Work as a team?" he asked, polishing a glass. "Was just trying to figure you two out."
"We're... uh..." Chandler stammered.
"Our status is still in flux," Rachel finished primly.
"Ah," the bartender smiled. "Well, if you *do* work as a team, I might suggest you avoid the walking petri dish and set your sights over there..."
Chandler and Rachel's eyes followed his pointing finger to an ethereally beautiful dark-haired man and woman across the room, holding hands and laughing.
"Mama mia," Chandler breathed.
"W-wow," Rachel added.
"Leslie and James," the bartender grinned helpfully. "They're models. I hear they have *fabulous* teamwork." He winked and headed over to the other end of the bar.
Chandler and Rachel spun to face each other.
"So... um... Leslie and James," Chandler began awkwardly. "And, uh, the teamwork issue."
"Oh, that's an issue," Rachel sputtered.
"So, uh, do we? Work as a team? 'Cause you know, I don't think Ross would hate me any less because there were two models sandwiched in between."
"Yeah, we shouldn't work as a team. Although they... they are *pretty*."
"Very, very pretty."
They both went back to their drinks in silence.
"So, this was pretty much a total bust," Chandler sighed. "I guess we're double-scoops of vanilla, huh?"
"That wasn't... I mean... this isn't a real test," Rachel replied. "Brian and Melissa... we didn't spot them across a bar, you know? They were people we knew and liked way before. We might still be bi, we're just not... y'know... bar-picker-uppers."
Chandler made two toothpicks dance across the counter. "Well, Brian has a boyfriend... how about you, do you see this Melissa chick?"
"Haven't seen her since college," Rachel sighed. "She probably doesn't even remember it."
"Aw, c'mon, you? I'd remember kissing you," Chandler said.
They stopped and stared at each other.
"We're havin' a little moment again," Rachel smiled.
"We're doing that *way* too often," Chandler agreed.
Rachel bit her lip, a calculating look in her eyes. "So, um, that would have been interesting, wouldn't it? If we'd gone home with James and Leslie?"
"Y'know, I think when you start having bisexual orgies with models, 'interesting' just isn't an adjective that gets used much."
"I mean, you could have watched me and Leslie together," Rachel whispered. "Our bodies sliding against each other as James pressed hot kisses on your neck..."
"Uh-huh, okay, what the hell are you doing?"
"Well, I was just thinking that if we were uncomfortable, y'know, plunging right in, we could sort of... um... talk our way through it and see how we felt?"
"Mmm-hmm, yeah, sex-chat with you, that sounds *great*. It'll be fun to have blue balls *while* Ross dismembers me." Chandler downed the rest of his drink.
"Ross, Ross, Ross, Ross, Ross," Rachel said glumly, swirling her glass between her hands.
"Yup, exactly. Look, Rachel, I mean... if circumstances were different, maybe this whole help-each-other-figure-stuff-out thing would be a good thing. Y'know, if what we were figuring out was quadratic theory, o-or hey, you hadn't dated Ross! But this is, this is too close to that line, and Ross is one of my best friends."
"Am I not *ever* allowed to move on?" Rachel demanded.
"You're allowed to move on!" Chandler replied. "Just not... *with* me, o-or *near* me, or in any way that *I* know about before *Ross* does. Plausible deniability, that is the key!"
"Please. I'm sure Ross is over me... I mean... I am *over* Ross. Completely and totally over Ross."
"Y'know what? We should go. We should go, right now," Chandler said quickly, casting glances at something behind Rachel's head.
Rachel tried to follow his eyes, but Chandler slammed her coat and purse into her chest. "C'mon, Rach, experiment over, mission aborted, let's go get some coffee..."
"Chandler, what the..." Rachel asked in confusion as he grabbed her hand and began pulling her toward the exit.
"Hey, Chandler!" a cheerful voice behind them chirped.
"Hey... *you*," Chandler said, a smile-like expression stretching painfully across his face. "Great to see you! You should call me. My friend and I are totally late, sorry we don't have time to chat..."
"Nice to meet you," the girl said to Rachel. "I'm..."
"...leaving too?" Chandler finished. "Aww, too bad! Catch you later, though!"
"Chandler, don't be an ass," Rachel laughed, extending her hand. "Hi, I'm Rachel Green."
The girl's face hovered for a moment, then plummeted. She shot a wild look at Chandler, whose eyes bulged significantly. "Y'know, Chandler's right, I totally have to be somewhere. *Great* to meet you, though, Rachel."
She headed off into the crowd, but Rachel caught her by the arm. "Aw, c'mon, we didn't even really meet! What's your name? I never get to meet any of Chandler's friends!"
"I'm, uh, my name is, uh," the girl mumbled something unintelligible and sprinted off.
"Well *that* was weird," Rachel said suspiciously.
"Yeah, she's weird," Chandler chirped. "Coffee sounds good, though, right? Mmm, coffee!"
"Why didn't you want me to meet that girl?" Rachel demanded.
"Because she's weird! Cookoo! Cookoo!"
Rachel shook her head. "Then just tell me her name."
"It's, uh, it's... Ch... armaine!"
"You are the worst, the worst liar ever, in the whole recorded history of liars, Chandler, you..." Rachel stopped suddenly, her eyes opening wide.
"Hey, Rachel, the coffeeshop is gonna close if we don't hurry..."
"Belly button ring," Rachel accused, her finger pointing in the direction the girl had run off to.
"Yes, it's nice, isn't it?" Chandler said, pulling her finger down and using it to steer her away. "You, you should totally get one. Maybe I'll get one too! Hey, let's go do that, c'mon, we'll be bellybutton buddies!"
"That was *Chloe*, wasn't it?" Rachel demanded, eyes suddenly shiny. "That was Chloe, the copy place girl!"
"Yeah," Chandler admitted, staring at his shoes.
"Oh god," Rachel gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "That was Chloe, oh my god, that was her."
"Which doesn't bother you, 'cause you're *completely* and *totally* over Ross," Chandler drawled.
"Oh god, she was so pretty," Rachel squeaked, fanning her face with her hands.
"Not as pretty as you! Not as pretty as you!" Chandler panicked, grabbing her by the arm. "Let's get out of here, okay?"
"I can't feel my knees," Rachel blurted.
"Okay, okay, here," Chandler said, wrapping one of Rachel's arms around his neck and encircling her waist with his own. "We're walkin', walkin' right out of the gay bar that is entirely too filled with straight people we know, yes we are..."
"Oh god, Chandler," Rachel cried as Chandler half-dragged her towards the door, "Why did I want to come here? God, why?"
Chandler set her down on a bench outside and took her hands. "C'mon, Rachel, look at this way. What's better... to run into Chloe on your way out and realize that you're not really over Ross... or be in the middle of a big naked orgy and realize that you're not really over Ross?"
"At least in the orgy, I'd have something to take my mind off it," Rachel sobbed.
"That's... true," Chandler said carefully. "But look. I mean, there you were in there, trying to convince me that you were over Ross, and you're not, you're really not, hon. I have to ask you -- how much of this 'Chasing Rachel' kick you're on is just a reaction to Ross? Don't you think it's a *little* coincidental that, y'know, he hurts you really badly... and you suddenly have this urge to do the exact thing his wife did that totally destroyed him?"
"It's not that, I swear," Rachel sniffed.
"Okay, maybe it isn't, but Rach... should you really be trying to get with *anybody*, male *or* female, until you're really over him?"
"I *am* over him," Rachel insisted. Off Chandler's dubious look, she continued, "Mostly. I'm over him *enough*, anyway. Seeing Chloe was just... ripping off a scab, okay? I never had... crystal-clear Kodachrome mental pictures before, okay, she was always kind of a... blur with nipples."
"Well, all right. So to go back to my point earlier... if this is how much over Ross *you* are, then he's probably in the same place. And you doing *anything* with me, even with me as a... bystander, would be like ripping off that scab... and pouring lemon juice in it."
Rachel heaved a sigh and looked through her purse for tissue. "Look, just reject me, okay? You don't have to get all... fancy about it."
"I'm not *rejecting* you," Chandler replied. "In case you haven't noticed, I've *always* been attracted to you."
"Really?" Rachel wiped her eyes.
"Well, yeah...! I mean, notice the pattern, okay? I've bumped into you on a few occasions over the years. Whenever I knew who you were, I stayed the hell away. The one time I didn't... the one time I just saw you, didn't recognize you, didn't know you were The Amazing Rachel Green, Star of Ross' Fantasy World... I made a complete idiot of myself hitting on you before Monica told me who you were."
"I had the best dream about you that night," Rachel grinned, wiping her tears away.
"Really?"
"Ohhh, yeah. It was *way* longer than I told everyone at the coffeeshop."
Chandler shook his head to expel the hormones. "But still. Maybe there was a door there at one time, but... it's closed now. I mean, it's cemented closed, bricked over, with boards nailed up over it. Velvet ropes around it, key broken off in the lock, security guards, I mean... there's no gettin' near that door."
"Can we go home now?" Rachel asked in a small voice. "This night is getting less fun by the second."
"Sure," Chandler said, helping her to her feet and taking her hand. "You okay?"
"Oh, sure," Rachel said, putting her tissue back in her purse. "I'm fine. I'm great. 'Cause this is such a fun situation, you know? I'm not supposed to be over Ross, or not over Ross. I'm not supposed to date anyone Ross knows, which, oops, is everyone *I* know. So I'm basically, y'know, in this wonderful, *wonderful* place where I can either, huh, die an old maid with 57 cats, or cause some huge melodrama everyone will blame me for. Y'know, Chandler... I'm just having such a terrific time, I'm surprised I can *contain* my *glee*."
"Hey-hey," Chandler replied. "*I'm* the bitter, sarcastic one!"
"Hey-hey," Rachel snapped right back. "Get used to the competition!"
Rachel stood for a moment, looking between Chandler and the door. "I want to go back in."
"Dear sweet lord in heaven, why?"
"Because I have to *pee*, okay?"
Rachel turned on her heel and marched back into the bar. Chandler leaned back against the bench and sighed deeply.
Damn. How long did it take her to pee?
He checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes.
And again. Twenty minutes.
Crap. Chandler walked back into the bar, scanning the crowd for Rachel. He checked the bar area, the dance floor, and finally hesitated at the door of the Ladies' Room.
A woman reached for the doorhandle, and he caught her arm. "Hey-hey, hi there, hi. Would you do me a favor? My friend Rachel's been in there a while. About your height, hair kind of a light reddish brown, goes like this," he made swooping motions with his hands around his face, "... wearing these sort of weird green snakey pants?"
"I've seen her," the woman replied.
"Ah, great," Chandler sighed in relief. "Would you tell her that I'm out here waiting for her?"
"She's not in there," the woman smiled. "She's in the back with Chloe."
"Chloe," Chandler repeated in a monotone full of dread.
"Yeah," the woman replied, eyes twinkling. "About my height, hair kind of a blackish brown, goes like this?" She made fluffing motions around her head.
"Oh, god," Chandler groaned, turning on his heel and heading for the back.
"Hey, look, if this 'Rachel' is your girlfriend..." the woman by the bathroom called, "You might not wanna go back there...!"
Chandler fought his way through the crowd to the back of the club, where there was a series of darkened alcoves.
He popped his head into the first one, disturbing the couple inside. "Um, sorry... sorry..."
He finally reached the right alcove and cleared his throat loudly. Rachel and Chloe broke off their kiss, and Rachel glared at him defiantly.
"Arousing as this is," Chandler demanded, "Stop it, stop it right now."
"We already stopped," Chloe grinned mischeviously, running her thumb over her lower lip.
"Are you on some sort of... dysfunctional activity scavenger hunt?" Chandler demanded, staring at Rachel with his hands on his hips.
"Oh, please," Rachel cooed, waving her hand dismissively. "Calm down."
"Calm down? You're actively trying to get me disembowled at the hands of a rabid paleontologist, and I'm supposed to calm down? Hey, Rachel, wanna hear a funny name? Ross! You know what rhymes with Ross? Ross! You know what's short for Ross? Ross!"
"This is none of Ross' business," Rachel replied calmly.
"Yuh-huh! And if history teaches us *anything*, it's that when you fool around with Chloe, no one finds out about it!!"
"Yeah, I'm gonna go," Chloe replied awkwardly, hurriedly grabbing her jacket and running down the stairs.
Chandler and Rachel were left glaring at each other.
"So," Chandler spat, "Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me that you're *not* doing this because of Ross? Because I am *so* not gonna believe you!"
"Okay, *that* I did because of Ross," Rachel admitted.
"You know what, Rachel?" Chandler sighed. "All that stuff you said about wanting to be different? This isn't different. This is you... w-with different accessories, y'know? You get hurt, you go flying off on these stupid, rebellious rampages... and maybe, maybe I can't stop you, but I don't have to be dragged along for them, okay?"
Rachel looked back at him, the hard look in her eyes fading. She stood up and took his hand. "Look, Chandler... I'm sorry. I know it was kinda stupid."
"Kinda?"
"Okay, really stupid. But hey -- I feel a lot better about the Chloe/Ross thing now!"
"Which is ironic, since you and Chloe making out was about the one thing Ross *didn't* try."
"And hey..." Rachel smiled, poking Chandler in the stomach, "At least *I* hooked up with someone in the gay bar... unlike you, loo-ser...!"
"Yeah, and what a great choice it was," Chandler laughed. "Huh, whose throat do I wanna stick my tongue down? Hmm, wonder if Richard or Paolo are here? O-or hey, maybe *Gary*?"
"You and Richard would be kind of cute together," Rachel grinned.
"Can we leave, *please*?" Chandler groaned.
"Okay, just let me pee," Rachel said, gathering her purse and jacket. Off Chandler's look, she continued defensively, "I didn't get to before!"
"Yeah, okay," Chandler muttered. "But if I have to go in there and extract you from Carol's pants, you're getting a talking-to you won't forget, missy."
"I promise," Rachel laughed, heading into the crowd.
She disappeared into the restroom, and Chandler leaned against the wall. He noticed two guys staring at him and looked at his shoes intently.
"I swear to God, that guy looks so familiar," one whispered to the other.
Chandler's ears pricked, and he picked at a band poster nonchalantly.
"Hey, yeah, he *does* look familiar," the other one replied.
"You didn't...?"
"Oh no, no, definitely not..." the taller man snapped his fingers. "Got it."
"So who is he?"
"Joey Tribbiani's roommate. I met him once."
"Joey's roommate? I didn't think anyone had ever met his roommate...? I only ever saw a picture."
"He came home early once. Cute guy, pretty funny..."
Rachel banged the bathroom door open and grabbed Chandler by the arm. "Okay, Bing, let's bail."
He motioned for her to shush, but it was too late... the two men had moved away.
Rachel watched Chandler watch them go, eyebrow raised. "Huh -- did I mess something up for you?"
"No, no," Chandler said, "Just... overhearing a weird conversation..."
"Weird how?" Rachel asked, shrugging her coat on.
He filled her in briefly as they walked to the door.
"Aw, c'mon, Chandler," Rachel smiled, pushing the door open. "Joey's an *actor*. Did you seriously think all of his friends were straight?"
"It wasn't that... it was something about the way they said it... y'know, and me 'coming home early'... what's up with that?"
"Well, maybe you should just ask Joey," Rachel said, brushing her hair back from her face.
"Uh-huh, yeah, and how would I start *that* conversation?"
"Weeeeellll... you *could* tell him about how you watched me and Chloe make out. I'm sure that'd get his attention," Rachel grinned slyly.
"Ohh, hey, that's right, you know... in all the confusion, I completely forgot to relive that over and over," Chandler closed his eyes happily. "Mmmmm-hmmmm!"
"And just think... if you hadn't been so judgemental, you could have sauntered right in and joined us," Rachel added.
Chandler's eyes popped open. "Seriously?"
"Well, no," Rachel laughed, "But you were going to injure yourself walking that way."
They laughed, linked hands, and walked off down the street.
"G'way," he mumbled into his pillow. Rachel shook his arm.
He rolled over and blinked. "Okay, this new little habit of yours, with the materializing in my bedroom? Gotta stop."
"Oh c'mon, c'mon, Chandler, get uuuuup," Rachel wheedled, pulling at his wrist. "Pleeeeeeease? I've got a plan!"
"I had a plan too! It involved sleeping for at least four more hours!"
"Get up right now, or... I'm pulling off my top and moaning your name *really* loudly."
Chandler groaned and threw the covers aside. "You *would* be the only woman who says this stuff to me." He ran his hand through his hair. "So what's your magical mystery plan?"
"We should go to a bar."
"Look... despite Joey's claims to the contrary, beer is *not* a breakfast food."
"No, no, no. For one thing, it's four p.m., lazy-ass. And another, okay, I'm not talking about a *bar* bar, y'know, I'm talking about a... *baaaaar* bar."
"A *crucial* semantic distinction *not* always appreciated."
"Will you stop? I'm talking about a..." she lowered her voice, "*gay* bar."
Chandler raised an eyebrow. "Look, Rach... if you can't say it at full volume, you probably don't want to go there."
"Fine," she sighed. "Gay bar, gay bar, gay bar. I want to go to a gay bar. Chandler, would you like to go to a gay bar? I'm going to a gay bar. You should accompany me to a gay bar. It's gay, and it's a bar. Gay bar."
He couldn't resist. "Now, where do you want to go again?"
Rachel let out a little scream of annoyance and stood up. "Never mind. Never mind! I'll ask Phoebe. At least it'll be *quicker*."
"Rach, stop." He stood up and reached for his pants. "Why, why do you want to go to a gay bar?"
"To, y'know! All that stuff we talked about last night! To find out! Aren't you curious?"
"A straight-arrow *decade* passes between your bisexual half-hour and now, and suddenly you're all fired up to go... fishing for lesbians? What is *with* you all of a sudden?"
"Well, I..." Rachel nibbled her fingernail. "Now I'm not, y'know, alone."
"I'm your *Gayness Buddy*?" Chandler cried indignantly.
"I wouldn't phrase it like that..."
"I would!"
"Chandler, please? C'mon, just once? Aren't you even the teensy weeniest bit curious?"
"To find out what it's like to be stabbed six hundred times with a dinosaur bone? Shockingly, no!"
"Look, we don't have to *do* anything. In fact, we'll... we'll make a pact that we won't. We'll just go, y'know, look around, see how we feel... and then just go home, right? No harm done, no big deal."
"In Bizarro World!"
"Chandler, I'm trying to get you to come with me to a place where there is beer *and* women kissing each other! Why is this so difficult?"
"Why are we even having this conversation? I'm sorry, Rach, this is just... this isn't you at all."
"Why isn't it me?" Rachel demanded, hands on hips.
"Because it's not, that's why! You're just... you know..."
"I'm *what*?"
"Very... vanilla."
"I am *sick* of being vanilla!" Rachel screeched. "Chandler, don't you get it? You say this isn't me, well... good! I don't want to stay the same forever, I want to do something *different*, I want to try new things!"
"So get a haircut! Being bi isn't a... whimsical adventure!" He paused. "Unless, of course, you're my dad."
"Chandler, look. I'm going to the damned gay bar. You can come with me and maybe answer some of the questions you're asking yourself, or you can stay here and mope around. Either way." She put her hand on the doorknob.
"Rach, wait. I'll go with you. Just let me put on a shirt."
***
Rachel looked up and waved as Chandler returned from the bathroom, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Um... is it just me, or is everyone here straight? Maybe we shouldn't have picked this place out of the phone book."
"No, no," he whispered back, "Just got back from the bathroom, definitely a gay bar."
"Ooooh!" she said excitedly. "You saw stuff?"
"Uh-huh."
"And...? How'd you feel...?"
"Like my hands were wet, 'cause they were blocking the paper towel dispenser...?"
"Chandler," Rachel huffed in disappointment, hitting him lightly. She pointed to a guy across the bar. "What about him? He's cute."
"Yeah, I guess..."
"Chandler!"
"I'm sorry! This is weird! What about you, you picked out anyone?"
Rachel played with her straw. "Not really..."
"Yuh-huh, so don't be judging me, okay?"
"God, this really is weird," Rachel sighed. "Maybe this was a stupid idea."
"Well, but hey -- would you feel any more comfortable trying to pick up strange guys in a bar?"
"I never had to pick up guys, they always came for me," Rachel said quietly.
"Hate you, by the way," Chandler grinned.
"Well, maybe... maybe people assume we're straight? I mean, we came together, we've been together all night, we're obviously out of our element..."
"Ah, yes, well, I'll fix that, let me pull my 'Bi-Curious Signal' out of my pocket..."
"Hi, gorgeous," a voice directly behind them said.
"Hi," Rachel and Chandler said in unison, whirling towards the source of the voice, a top-heavy redhead.
"Oops," Rachel blushed, putting her hand over her mouth. "Um... which one of us were you talking to?"
"Well... both of you, maybe," the girl said, a slow smile spreading over her face. "Do you work as a team?"
Chandler and Rachel shot each other a stunned look.
"Um... we hadn't really thought about it..." Chandler replied.
"Well, think about it," the girl laughed. "I'll be over there."
Chandler and Rachel watched the girl slink off, and turned to each other with eyebrows soaring.
"Um, excuse me, guys," the bartender said, leaning in, "None of my business, but... soopa-skank. If that's your thing, cool, but, y'know, safety first."
"Thanks," Rachel said awkwardly.
"So do you guys? Work as a team?" he asked, polishing a glass. "Was just trying to figure you two out."
"We're... uh..." Chandler stammered.
"Our status is still in flux," Rachel finished primly.
"Ah," the bartender smiled. "Well, if you *do* work as a team, I might suggest you avoid the walking petri dish and set your sights over there..."
Chandler and Rachel's eyes followed his pointing finger to an ethereally beautiful dark-haired man and woman across the room, holding hands and laughing.
"Mama mia," Chandler breathed.
"W-wow," Rachel added.
"Leslie and James," the bartender grinned helpfully. "They're models. I hear they have *fabulous* teamwork." He winked and headed over to the other end of the bar.
Chandler and Rachel spun to face each other.
"So... um... Leslie and James," Chandler began awkwardly. "And, uh, the teamwork issue."
"Oh, that's an issue," Rachel sputtered.
"So, uh, do we? Work as a team? 'Cause you know, I don't think Ross would hate me any less because there were two models sandwiched in between."
"Yeah, we shouldn't work as a team. Although they... they are *pretty*."
"Very, very pretty."
They both went back to their drinks in silence.
"So, this was pretty much a total bust," Chandler sighed. "I guess we're double-scoops of vanilla, huh?"
"That wasn't... I mean... this isn't a real test," Rachel replied. "Brian and Melissa... we didn't spot them across a bar, you know? They were people we knew and liked way before. We might still be bi, we're just not... y'know... bar-picker-uppers."
Chandler made two toothpicks dance across the counter. "Well, Brian has a boyfriend... how about you, do you see this Melissa chick?"
"Haven't seen her since college," Rachel sighed. "She probably doesn't even remember it."
"Aw, c'mon, you? I'd remember kissing you," Chandler said.
They stopped and stared at each other.
"We're havin' a little moment again," Rachel smiled.
"We're doing that *way* too often," Chandler agreed.
Rachel bit her lip, a calculating look in her eyes. "So, um, that would have been interesting, wouldn't it? If we'd gone home with James and Leslie?"
"Y'know, I think when you start having bisexual orgies with models, 'interesting' just isn't an adjective that gets used much."
"I mean, you could have watched me and Leslie together," Rachel whispered. "Our bodies sliding against each other as James pressed hot kisses on your neck..."
"Uh-huh, okay, what the hell are you doing?"
"Well, I was just thinking that if we were uncomfortable, y'know, plunging right in, we could sort of... um... talk our way through it and see how we felt?"
"Mmm-hmm, yeah, sex-chat with you, that sounds *great*. It'll be fun to have blue balls *while* Ross dismembers me." Chandler downed the rest of his drink.
"Ross, Ross, Ross, Ross, Ross," Rachel said glumly, swirling her glass between her hands.
"Yup, exactly. Look, Rachel, I mean... if circumstances were different, maybe this whole help-each-other-figure-stuff-out thing would be a good thing. Y'know, if what we were figuring out was quadratic theory, o-or hey, you hadn't dated Ross! But this is, this is too close to that line, and Ross is one of my best friends."
"Am I not *ever* allowed to move on?" Rachel demanded.
"You're allowed to move on!" Chandler replied. "Just not... *with* me, o-or *near* me, or in any way that *I* know about before *Ross* does. Plausible deniability, that is the key!"
"Please. I'm sure Ross is over me... I mean... I am *over* Ross. Completely and totally over Ross."
"Y'know what? We should go. We should go, right now," Chandler said quickly, casting glances at something behind Rachel's head.
Rachel tried to follow his eyes, but Chandler slammed her coat and purse into her chest. "C'mon, Rach, experiment over, mission aborted, let's go get some coffee..."
"Chandler, what the..." Rachel asked in confusion as he grabbed her hand and began pulling her toward the exit.
"Hey, Chandler!" a cheerful voice behind them chirped.
"Hey... *you*," Chandler said, a smile-like expression stretching painfully across his face. "Great to see you! You should call me. My friend and I are totally late, sorry we don't have time to chat..."
"Nice to meet you," the girl said to Rachel. "I'm..."
"...leaving too?" Chandler finished. "Aww, too bad! Catch you later, though!"
"Chandler, don't be an ass," Rachel laughed, extending her hand. "Hi, I'm Rachel Green."
The girl's face hovered for a moment, then plummeted. She shot a wild look at Chandler, whose eyes bulged significantly. "Y'know, Chandler's right, I totally have to be somewhere. *Great* to meet you, though, Rachel."
She headed off into the crowd, but Rachel caught her by the arm. "Aw, c'mon, we didn't even really meet! What's your name? I never get to meet any of Chandler's friends!"
"I'm, uh, my name is, uh," the girl mumbled something unintelligible and sprinted off.
"Well *that* was weird," Rachel said suspiciously.
"Yeah, she's weird," Chandler chirped. "Coffee sounds good, though, right? Mmm, coffee!"
"Why didn't you want me to meet that girl?" Rachel demanded.
"Because she's weird! Cookoo! Cookoo!"
Rachel shook her head. "Then just tell me her name."
"It's, uh, it's... Ch... armaine!"
"You are the worst, the worst liar ever, in the whole recorded history of liars, Chandler, you..." Rachel stopped suddenly, her eyes opening wide.
"Hey, Rachel, the coffeeshop is gonna close if we don't hurry..."
"Belly button ring," Rachel accused, her finger pointing in the direction the girl had run off to.
"Yes, it's nice, isn't it?" Chandler said, pulling her finger down and using it to steer her away. "You, you should totally get one. Maybe I'll get one too! Hey, let's go do that, c'mon, we'll be bellybutton buddies!"
"That was *Chloe*, wasn't it?" Rachel demanded, eyes suddenly shiny. "That was Chloe, the copy place girl!"
"Yeah," Chandler admitted, staring at his shoes.
"Oh god," Rachel gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "That was Chloe, oh my god, that was her."
"Which doesn't bother you, 'cause you're *completely* and *totally* over Ross," Chandler drawled.
"Oh god, she was so pretty," Rachel squeaked, fanning her face with her hands.
"Not as pretty as you! Not as pretty as you!" Chandler panicked, grabbing her by the arm. "Let's get out of here, okay?"
"I can't feel my knees," Rachel blurted.
"Okay, okay, here," Chandler said, wrapping one of Rachel's arms around his neck and encircling her waist with his own. "We're walkin', walkin' right out of the gay bar that is entirely too filled with straight people we know, yes we are..."
"Oh god, Chandler," Rachel cried as Chandler half-dragged her towards the door, "Why did I want to come here? God, why?"
Chandler set her down on a bench outside and took her hands. "C'mon, Rachel, look at this way. What's better... to run into Chloe on your way out and realize that you're not really over Ross... or be in the middle of a big naked orgy and realize that you're not really over Ross?"
"At least in the orgy, I'd have something to take my mind off it," Rachel sobbed.
"That's... true," Chandler said carefully. "But look. I mean, there you were in there, trying to convince me that you were over Ross, and you're not, you're really not, hon. I have to ask you -- how much of this 'Chasing Rachel' kick you're on is just a reaction to Ross? Don't you think it's a *little* coincidental that, y'know, he hurts you really badly... and you suddenly have this urge to do the exact thing his wife did that totally destroyed him?"
"It's not that, I swear," Rachel sniffed.
"Okay, maybe it isn't, but Rach... should you really be trying to get with *anybody*, male *or* female, until you're really over him?"
"I *am* over him," Rachel insisted. Off Chandler's dubious look, she continued, "Mostly. I'm over him *enough*, anyway. Seeing Chloe was just... ripping off a scab, okay? I never had... crystal-clear Kodachrome mental pictures before, okay, she was always kind of a... blur with nipples."
"Well, all right. So to go back to my point earlier... if this is how much over Ross *you* are, then he's probably in the same place. And you doing *anything* with me, even with me as a... bystander, would be like ripping off that scab... and pouring lemon juice in it."
Rachel heaved a sigh and looked through her purse for tissue. "Look, just reject me, okay? You don't have to get all... fancy about it."
"I'm not *rejecting* you," Chandler replied. "In case you haven't noticed, I've *always* been attracted to you."
"Really?" Rachel wiped her eyes.
"Well, yeah...! I mean, notice the pattern, okay? I've bumped into you on a few occasions over the years. Whenever I knew who you were, I stayed the hell away. The one time I didn't... the one time I just saw you, didn't recognize you, didn't know you were The Amazing Rachel Green, Star of Ross' Fantasy World... I made a complete idiot of myself hitting on you before Monica told me who you were."
"I had the best dream about you that night," Rachel grinned, wiping her tears away.
"Really?"
"Ohhh, yeah. It was *way* longer than I told everyone at the coffeeshop."
Chandler shook his head to expel the hormones. "But still. Maybe there was a door there at one time, but... it's closed now. I mean, it's cemented closed, bricked over, with boards nailed up over it. Velvet ropes around it, key broken off in the lock, security guards, I mean... there's no gettin' near that door."
"Can we go home now?" Rachel asked in a small voice. "This night is getting less fun by the second."
"Sure," Chandler said, helping her to her feet and taking her hand. "You okay?"
"Oh, sure," Rachel said, putting her tissue back in her purse. "I'm fine. I'm great. 'Cause this is such a fun situation, you know? I'm not supposed to be over Ross, or not over Ross. I'm not supposed to date anyone Ross knows, which, oops, is everyone *I* know. So I'm basically, y'know, in this wonderful, *wonderful* place where I can either, huh, die an old maid with 57 cats, or cause some huge melodrama everyone will blame me for. Y'know, Chandler... I'm just having such a terrific time, I'm surprised I can *contain* my *glee*."
"Hey-hey," Chandler replied. "*I'm* the bitter, sarcastic one!"
"Hey-hey," Rachel snapped right back. "Get used to the competition!"
Rachel stood for a moment, looking between Chandler and the door. "I want to go back in."
"Dear sweet lord in heaven, why?"
"Because I have to *pee*, okay?"
Rachel turned on her heel and marched back into the bar. Chandler leaned back against the bench and sighed deeply.
Damn. How long did it take her to pee?
He checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes.
And again. Twenty minutes.
Crap. Chandler walked back into the bar, scanning the crowd for Rachel. He checked the bar area, the dance floor, and finally hesitated at the door of the Ladies' Room.
A woman reached for the doorhandle, and he caught her arm. "Hey-hey, hi there, hi. Would you do me a favor? My friend Rachel's been in there a while. About your height, hair kind of a light reddish brown, goes like this," he made swooping motions with his hands around his face, "... wearing these sort of weird green snakey pants?"
"I've seen her," the woman replied.
"Ah, great," Chandler sighed in relief. "Would you tell her that I'm out here waiting for her?"
"She's not in there," the woman smiled. "She's in the back with Chloe."
"Chloe," Chandler repeated in a monotone full of dread.
"Yeah," the woman replied, eyes twinkling. "About my height, hair kind of a blackish brown, goes like this?" She made fluffing motions around her head.
"Oh, god," Chandler groaned, turning on his heel and heading for the back.
"Hey, look, if this 'Rachel' is your girlfriend..." the woman by the bathroom called, "You might not wanna go back there...!"
Chandler fought his way through the crowd to the back of the club, where there was a series of darkened alcoves.
He popped his head into the first one, disturbing the couple inside. "Um, sorry... sorry..."
He finally reached the right alcove and cleared his throat loudly. Rachel and Chloe broke off their kiss, and Rachel glared at him defiantly.
"Arousing as this is," Chandler demanded, "Stop it, stop it right now."
"We already stopped," Chloe grinned mischeviously, running her thumb over her lower lip.
"Are you on some sort of... dysfunctional activity scavenger hunt?" Chandler demanded, staring at Rachel with his hands on his hips.
"Oh, please," Rachel cooed, waving her hand dismissively. "Calm down."
"Calm down? You're actively trying to get me disembowled at the hands of a rabid paleontologist, and I'm supposed to calm down? Hey, Rachel, wanna hear a funny name? Ross! You know what rhymes with Ross? Ross! You know what's short for Ross? Ross!"
"This is none of Ross' business," Rachel replied calmly.
"Yuh-huh! And if history teaches us *anything*, it's that when you fool around with Chloe, no one finds out about it!!"
"Yeah, I'm gonna go," Chloe replied awkwardly, hurriedly grabbing her jacket and running down the stairs.
Chandler and Rachel were left glaring at each other.
"So," Chandler spat, "Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me that you're *not* doing this because of Ross? Because I am *so* not gonna believe you!"
"Okay, *that* I did because of Ross," Rachel admitted.
"You know what, Rachel?" Chandler sighed. "All that stuff you said about wanting to be different? This isn't different. This is you... w-with different accessories, y'know? You get hurt, you go flying off on these stupid, rebellious rampages... and maybe, maybe I can't stop you, but I don't have to be dragged along for them, okay?"
Rachel looked back at him, the hard look in her eyes fading. She stood up and took his hand. "Look, Chandler... I'm sorry. I know it was kinda stupid."
"Kinda?"
"Okay, really stupid. But hey -- I feel a lot better about the Chloe/Ross thing now!"
"Which is ironic, since you and Chloe making out was about the one thing Ross *didn't* try."
"And hey..." Rachel smiled, poking Chandler in the stomach, "At least *I* hooked up with someone in the gay bar... unlike you, loo-ser...!"
"Yeah, and what a great choice it was," Chandler laughed. "Huh, whose throat do I wanna stick my tongue down? Hmm, wonder if Richard or Paolo are here? O-or hey, maybe *Gary*?"
"You and Richard would be kind of cute together," Rachel grinned.
"Can we leave, *please*?" Chandler groaned.
"Okay, just let me pee," Rachel said, gathering her purse and jacket. Off Chandler's look, she continued defensively, "I didn't get to before!"
"Yeah, okay," Chandler muttered. "But if I have to go in there and extract you from Carol's pants, you're getting a talking-to you won't forget, missy."
"I promise," Rachel laughed, heading into the crowd.
She disappeared into the restroom, and Chandler leaned against the wall. He noticed two guys staring at him and looked at his shoes intently.
"I swear to God, that guy looks so familiar," one whispered to the other.
Chandler's ears pricked, and he picked at a band poster nonchalantly.
"Hey, yeah, he *does* look familiar," the other one replied.
"You didn't...?"
"Oh no, no, definitely not..." the taller man snapped his fingers. "Got it."
"So who is he?"
"Joey Tribbiani's roommate. I met him once."
"Joey's roommate? I didn't think anyone had ever met his roommate...? I only ever saw a picture."
"He came home early once. Cute guy, pretty funny..."
Rachel banged the bathroom door open and grabbed Chandler by the arm. "Okay, Bing, let's bail."
He motioned for her to shush, but it was too late... the two men had moved away.
Rachel watched Chandler watch them go, eyebrow raised. "Huh -- did I mess something up for you?"
"No, no," Chandler said, "Just... overhearing a weird conversation..."
"Weird how?" Rachel asked, shrugging her coat on.
He filled her in briefly as they walked to the door.
"Aw, c'mon, Chandler," Rachel smiled, pushing the door open. "Joey's an *actor*. Did you seriously think all of his friends were straight?"
"It wasn't that... it was something about the way they said it... y'know, and me 'coming home early'... what's up with that?"
"Well, maybe you should just ask Joey," Rachel said, brushing her hair back from her face.
"Uh-huh, yeah, and how would I start *that* conversation?"
"Weeeeellll... you *could* tell him about how you watched me and Chloe make out. I'm sure that'd get his attention," Rachel grinned slyly.
"Ohh, hey, that's right, you know... in all the confusion, I completely forgot to relive that over and over," Chandler closed his eyes happily. "Mmmmm-hmmmm!"
"And just think... if you hadn't been so judgemental, you could have sauntered right in and joined us," Rachel added.
Chandler's eyes popped open. "Seriously?"
"Well, no," Rachel laughed, "But you were going to injure yourself walking that way."
They laughed, linked hands, and walked off down the street.