Kind of Blue
Blue In Green
He slid into consciousness slowly, and reluctantly. He wasn't sure which was worse; the persistent, painful pounding emanating from within his own head, or the strange, highly annoying wheezing noise that was emanating from the left side of the bed.
Groaning, he rolled over, and opened each eye slowly, only to confirm what he already knew.
Janice was even irritating when she was asleep.
He'd told her he was a dentist, hoping to put her off—he figured she would run screaming from the table.
As it had turned out, she had an oral fixation, and he had spent the rest of the evening making up things about his 'job', using the few facts about dentistry he had gleaned from his occasional dental visits—all while consuming an obscene amount of Cabernet Sauvignon.
Then things became—fuzzy. There had been a taxi ride—and a fumbling attempt to get into the apartment quietly, and then…
He was pretty sure they had had sex—a lot of sex—but he couldn't actually recall any of it.
Janice snorted, and turned over to her stomach, and the wheezing actually increased.
The only thing he had going for him was the fact that they were at her place—a tiny Tribeca studio—meaning that he could, with a little luck, slip out of the apartment unnoticed.
He climbed out of bed slowly—carefully, and, ignoring the unbelievable pressure mounting in his head, gathered his clothing from the hardwood floor.
Then, with all the grace of a three-legged blind elephant, he stumbled into his pants, freezing when he detected a startled snort coming from the bed.
Janice let out a nasal whine-like sigh, and fell back into unconsciousness.
Chandler counted his blessings and slipped out the door.
*
She was deep into her book when she heard her name being called.
"Monica? Monica Geller?"
Monica placed her finger over the section she had been reading, and tried not to appear annoyed as she looked up. She spotted the woman who had called out to her immediately. Dressed in ridiculously tight, dark green, leather pants and a too-tight halter-top, the woman would have stuck out anywhere—except maybe New Jersey. She flipped her teased brown hair over her shoulder, and let her silver bangles jingle as she extended both arms in an over exaggerated manner.
"Mooonica, I just caan't believe it's you!"
"R-Rachel Green," Monica smiled tightly, and hugged the woman, and tried not to gag on her Aqua Net.
"Actually it's Rachel Farber now!" Rachel gushed, shoving her 5-carat diamond in Monica's face.
"W-wow!" Monica smiled with mock-enthusiasm.
"I-uh I would have invited you, but I didn't have your address…" Rachel smiled, and shifted uncomfortably.
"Oh, it's fine," Monica smiled. I'm sure you'd completely forgotten about me until this very moment.
"Well anyway, you're here now, and I am just dying to know what you've been up to all this time!" Rachel clapped her hands together to emphasize just how much she was dying to hear about Monica's life.
"Well, I live just down the street, and I am head chef at Allessandro's, and I—"
"Forget all that—are you married? Dating?"
"I'm…looking," Monica shrugged.
"Oh," Rachel's shoulders dropped in disappointment, and she sighed deeply.
"So, how is married life? What does your husband do?"
"Married life is great!" Rachel said a bit too enthusiastically, "And Barry—that's my husband—he's a doctor!"
"Wow! What kind of doctor?" Monica asked, and tried to look interested.
"Well, he's a-an orthodontist, actually," Rachel's smile faltered, but was swiftly restored.
"Well, your kids will have the straightest teeth in the city then," Monica laughed.
"Yeah," Rachel sighed distantly, as her eyes glazed over slightly.
"Rach? You okay?"
"Yeah, great. Everything's fine," Rachel smiled tightly. Moments later, she broke out of her strange trance, and restored her bubbly façade.
"Anyway, I'd better go! Saks awaits!" Rachel bellowed, and started for the door. She turned and looked over at her former best friend.
"Monica, we should really have lunch sometime soon!"
"Absolutely," Monica replied, as Rachel floated out the door.
She wondered if she'd ever see Rachel Green again.
*
He finally managed to get enough energy to saunter down to the coffeehouse, and plop onto the sofa that sat in the far back corner.
He watched, as people flittered in and out of the café, all of them over-caffinated, and barely aware of anything that was going on around them.
His eyes fell to the opposite corner of the shop, where he noticed the dark-haired woman from the other day, deeply engrossed in her book.
He wasn't sure what made him stand up and cross the shop, especially in the wretched state he was currently in, but he was halfway there before his brain could analyze any sort of reasoning. He came to a stop directly in front of her, and watched her in silence for a moment.
She didn't look up.
"That must be one hell of a book," Chandler started lamely.
No reply.
"It looks like a different one from the one you were—reading last week," Chandler continued rambling, his face reddening with every word that spilled out of his mouth. What the hell was he saying? Could he sound any more like a stalker?
She looked up finally—and did not look pleased.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked icily.
"I just—I wanted to apologize for my friend the other day. He was kinda loud, and I saw that you got up and left, and I felt bad—"
"Yeah, well, not all of us want to listen to your friend's version of Sex and the City, ya know?"
"Trust me, I don't wanna hear it either," Chandler laughed nervously, "but I don't have a choice—we share a wall."
The woman laughed at this, and Chandler felt himself relax a little.
"Anyway, I'm sorry," Chandler smiled.
"It's not your fault," the woman said, her tone softening slightly.
"I'm Chandler," he extended his hand slowly, and smiled broadly.
"Monica," she took his hand, and shook it quickly.
It was the smile that finally got her.
She'd noticed the eyes first, but was still annoyed by the fact that this guy was trying to pick her up—and doing a horrible job of it—while she was trying to finish her story.
Then he said something charming—in a dopey kind of way—and smiled at her.
And she found herself laughing involuntarily.
What the hell was she doing? She should be shooing this guy away, not encouraging him with flirty eyes and a seductive grin!
And before she could control it, she had asked him to sit down, and have a cup of coffee with her.
"So, what are you reading, anyway?"
"Chekhov," Monica said, and pushed her book toward him.
"What's the story?"
"The story I'm on now is about a man who falls in love with a married woman. He continues to see her, even though he knows he can't have her. Eventually, she moves away with her husband."
"Does he let her leave?"
"He has no choice, she's married."
"Does she love him?"
"Yes, she does."
"Why does she leave then?"
"Because love is never black and white."
"I see," Chandler nodded, and pushed the book back toward Monica, "Have you ever been in love?"
"I don't know," Monica shrugged and tucked her book into her bag.
"If you don't know then you probably haven't," Chandler smiled wryly.
"Have you?"
"Once. It was the worst thing ever," Chandler laughed.
"Why? What happened?"
"She left me," Chandler said quietly.
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"It's alright. I'm over it."
The couple sat in silence for a long minute. Suddenly, Chandler let out a short chuckle.
"What? What is it?" Monica looked at Chandler quizzically.
"I just…I mean, I just met you, and…it's weird, I feel like I can tell you anything. Are you a shrink or something?"
"No, I'm a chef," Monica smiled.
"Well, there goes that theory," Chandler laughed.
"But I used to be a bartender," Monica added.
"Ah, then that explains it!" Chandler smiled, and Monica laughed.
Hours passed, and neither seemed to notice. Only when the white-haired man behind the counter announced that he was closing for the night did either party look at their watch.
"I can't believe how late it is!" Monica said, as she gathered her coat and bag.
"Yeah, time flies when you are having fun," Chandler smiled, as he pulled on his coat, "Can I walk you home?"
"Oh, I just live on the next block," Monica smiled, as Chandler opened the front door of the café for her.
"Yes, well, it is a long, long city block."
Monica giggled, and nodded, and they began walking toward her apartment building.
They walked in silence for a minute, their first real pause in conversation since Chandler had sat down at Monica's table.
"Looks like it snowed a bit while we were in there," Monica observed, as they crossed the street.
"Yeah," Chandler replied, and tentatively took Monica's hand in his.
She smiled inwardly, and slightly squeezed his hand in response.
"So, this is my place," Monica stopped abruptly, and turned to face Chandler.
"Oh," Chandler looked the building up and down, "it's really nice."
"I like it," Monica smiled, and casually pulled her hand from Chandler's, before taking a step up onto her building's front stoop.
"So…I'll call you?" Chandler asked hopefully.
"Okay…but I work the rest of the week," Monica said. Upon Chandler's crestfallen expression she added, "So maybe we could just…plan something now?"
Chandler smiled, and tried desperately not to let his relief show.
"How about dinner Saturday night?"
"I'll meet you at Central Perk at 8," Monica smiled.
"Okay," Chandler nodded, and took a small step toward her.
"So, I'll see you Saturday then," he whispered softly, sending butterflies through her stomach.
She nodded silently, and leaned toward him slightly, as he took another step toward her.
She couldn't believe she was about to kiss a total stranger! Well, he wasn't a total stranger, but still…this was not like her, at all.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt his hot breath warming her frozen lips.
Her knees her shaking.
She moved forward slightly, her heart racing, and her stomach churning. And then…
Thump.
She opened her eyes, and looked down. It took everything she had not to howl with laughter.
But she couldn't contain the fit of giggles.
He wasn't sure what had just happened.
One minute, he is centimeters from a luscious kiss with a beautiful, intelligent woman, and the next, his legs are coming out from under him, and his is landing on his ass—literally—on a patch of black ice.
He wasn't sure what was hurting more—his butt, or his pride.
He looked up at Monica, who was now completely overwhelmed with laughter, and shook his head.
Talk about embarrassing.
She finally calmed down enough to crouch down and see if he was actually hurt—he hadn't said anything since the fall.
"Are you okay?" she said through her tears.
"I—think I broke something," he replied quietly, and didn't look up at her.
"What? Oh God! Should I call an ambulance?" Monica leaned toward Chandler, concern lighting her face.
Chandler looked up suddenly, a wicked grin plastered on his face. Before Monica could react, he wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her into a snow bank that lined the sidewalk.
"Oh, you animal!" Monica screamed, as Chandler stood up slowly, and wiped his own tears of laughter from his face, before extending his arm to help Monica to her feet.
"Well, that's what you get for laughing at me," Chandler chuckled, as he pulled Monica up. She said nothing, and simply looked at him sourly.
His laughter died down, and, in an unusual act of bravado, he pulled her toward him, and moved in to kiss her.
The kiss was light, and timid, deepening only when he felt her arms encircle his neck.
Ending when he felt a large lump of snow being shoved down his shirt.
She smiled triumphantly as she pulled away, and walked wordlessly into her building.
She raced up to her living room, and clambered out onto her balcony.
He was pulling the last of the snow from his shirt, and twisting around to inspect the massive wet spot on the butt of his jeans.
His butt looked really good in those jeans.
What was she doing? She mentally slapped herself, and shook her head.
She watched him walk down the street, back toward the coffee shop, his gait slightly crooked, thanks to the soaked jeans and soar backside.
She couldn't contain her smile.
And despite the cold, wet pants, the wet shirt, and slightly shaken pride, neither could he.
AN: Yeah, it's all happy happy now, but you know me…