"Oh, hey!" Julie cried, pausing at a rack of blue satin and pulling out a negligee. "Do you guys think Ross would like this?"

"Yeah, I think so... the shape's good..." Rachel said, feeling Monica and Phoebe's worried eyes burning holes into the back of her head. She pulled out a similar garment in a different color, passing it over. "I think this red would look prettier on you, though."

Julie held the other garment up. "You're right -- this is a better color on me. Thanks, Rachel."

"Want me to see if they have anything else in that color?"

"Sure!"

Rachel spotted a flash of red over by the bras and headed for it, pulling it out, biting her lip. It was pretty, but a little sluttier than she thought Ross would go for...

Chandler, though... Chandler might like it. She tried to imagine his reaction if he saw her in it... would he get that demonic glint in his eyes? Rip it off of her? Or better yet, not rip it off of her, but just take her roughly against the door in a frenzy of...

Dammit, Rachel, stop.

Leaving him this morning had been hell. She'd snuck out early to get back before Monica and Phoebe woke up, crawling out of the warm nest of his blankets, leaving him asleep on his stomach, vulnerable and somehow younger in the light between his blinds, one arm -- so beautiful, so perfect, it had almost made her cry -- bent before him, cradling the place where she had been.

She'd regretted, bitterly regretted, agreeing to this shopping trip. With Mon and Pheebs with Julie, maybe she and Chandler could have gone to a movie, gotten lunch, gone for a walk...

Oh, dear god. I've met a guy I'd rather be with than shop.

And I dumped him.

"Rachel," Monica whispered.

"Hey, Mon -- do you think this is sluttier than Ross would go for?"

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Sure..."

"You're helping Julie pick out clothes to have sex with Ross in! I figured you'd be sobbing in a dressing room by now!"

"Yeah, well..."

"And... I mean... you're really helping! That blue was hideous! She'll look great in that red thing! What's up with you?"

"So? I like to shop," Rachel said. "Oh... oh... perfect!"

Monica trotted after her as Rachel beelined for a satin nightgown.

"Check it out, Mon," Rachel said, holding the dress up. "Classy from the front... slutty from the sides! Ross won't know what hit him."

"Honey, you... you do know that you're not wearing these, right?"

"Well, yeah," Rachel said. "I look god-awful in this shade." She threw the dress over her arm, her hunter's eye catching a glimpse of something on the wall. "Ohhhh... I am on a roll! Look at me go!"

"Sweetie, I'm... I'm worried about you," Monica hissed, weaving through the racks after Rachel as she threw items over her arms. "I think you're in denial... that can't be healthy."

"I am not in... ohhhh." Rachel broke off, staring at a dress.

"I don't think..."

"Oh, not for Julie, no, cut's all wrong. But Mon... look at that color." Rachel touched the blue-green fabric reverently, sliding it through her fingers. "Have you ever seen something so beautiful?"

"Sure I have," Monica said softly. "That's the color of Chandler's eyes."

Rachel jumped back as if burnt. "Huh. Is that why it looked familiar." She forced brightness into her voice. "Hey, let's... let's go take these to Julie in the dressing room."

Monica reached out, touching the dress, lost in thought.

"Um... Mon? Earth to Mon, c'mon..."

"I think I'm gonna buy this."

"Well, it... it would look really good on you..."

"Y'know, maybe I could start wearing it around the house, right? I mean, he just drops by all the time, and there I am in a Knicks shirt and baggy socks." Monica put the dress over her arm. "I'll go try it on."

"Yeah, good... good idea."

They rejoined Julie and Phoebe in the dressing room, and Rachel handed the dresses in.

Julie squealed in delight behind the door. "Rachel, these are gorgeous! You have the best taste!"

"Thanks..."

"Whaddya think?" Julie asked, coming out in the red one and twirling.

"You look great," Rachel said. "Ross is gonna freak."

"I hope so," Julie bit her lip, examining herself in the mirror.

"You look awesome! Quit worrying! Try the green one."

"How about this?" Monica asked, opening the dressing room door.

"Oh, Mon," Rachel breathed. "You're... stunning."

Monica turned slowly, and Rachel's stomach sank. Suddenly, she was in her and Monica's apartment, watching Chandler kiss Monica, watching those beautiful fingers sink into Monica's dark hair, watching Chandler slide the nightgown over her hips, a look on his face she knew all too well.

Monica moaning his name, Monica's face pressed into the carpet, Monica's fingernails raking down his back, Monica holding up a weakened hand to display four fingers...

Monica looked curiously into Rachel's catatonic face. "That good, or that bad?"

Rachel shook her head, pasting a grin on. "You wear that thing around the house too much... I might have to start going to Carol and Susan's parties."

Monica laughed and slipped back into the dressing room, leaving Rachel to stare at her own reflection in the three way mirror. Monica had such beautiful, delicate bone structure, such fair skin, all that dark hair... and suddenly, Rachel felt dumpy and dark and round-faced. She touched her nose, sighing. Why hadn't she had Dr. Wilson make it just a little bit skinnier?

Her thoughts were cut off by Julie, coming up behind her with an armload of clothes.

"Well, I'm getting them all, and my credit cards damn you," Julie laughed. "You're some kind of shopping savant -- if I came here with you all the time, I'd have to declare bankruptcy."

"It's my gift," Rachel laughed.

"Hey, Rach... you ever thought about shopping, y'know... for a living?"

Rachel grinned. "Back when I lived on daddy's credit cards, that was my job, pretty much. Now I'm a waitress, so it's just an expensive hobby."

"Huh," Julie said thoughtfully, chewing on her lip.

***

They walked back into the traffic of the fourth floor walkways, Julie's arms loaded down with Big Brown Bags.

"Where to?" Julie asked.

"I'm hungry," Phoebe said. "You wanna do Le Train Bleu?"

"Sounds... oh, hang on." Julie reached into her purse for her cellphone. "Hey! No, that's great!"

Julie put her finger in her ear, walking a little bit away from them. "We're on the fourth floor, right by Lingerie. Look around. Okay, that's Housewares, turn around... keep going... okay, okay I see you! I'm waving! See me?"

Julie waved off into the distance, and Rachel's heart lurched as Chandler jogged up, cellphone to his ear.

"Chandler, what are you... what are you doing here?" Phoebe asked.

"Makin' fun of Joey in his cowboy costume," Chandler grinned, shutting his cellphone with a snap. "Ross said you guys were here, thought I'd stop by."

"We were gonna eat lunch," Phoebe said.

"I like lunch," Chandler smiled. "What have you guys been up to?"

"Rachel's melting all my charge cards," Julie laughed, sliding her phone into her purse. "Everything she picks out for me is too perfect not to buy."

"Rachel's amazing like that," Chandler agreed, and the warmth in his eyes made goosebumps spring up all over her.

"If you wanna get in on some discount abuse, you should drag Rachel through the men's department with you," Julie said. "She's a miracle worker."

"Sounds good," Chandler smiled. "Rach, you wanna go?"

"Men's department it is!" Monica chirped.

"No way, Geller," Phoebe growled, grabbing her by the wrist. "We're eating. I'm starving."

"But..."

"Come on. You too, Jules."

Was it Rachel's imagination, or did Phoebe just... wink at her?

Chandler watched as Phoebe hauled them up the escalator and out of sight, reaching out to tuck a lock of Rachel's hair behind her ear. "You ran out on me this morning," he said softly.

"Well, I... had to meet Julie..." she trailed off. Lying to him was useless. "I didn't want to blubber all over you."

"I wouldn't have minded."

"Well, I... I have so little dignity, I like to save the scraps..."

She sighed. "Why are you here, Chandler?"

"Missed ya. And I really did want to make fun of Joey in his cowboy costume... but mostly, I missed ya."

He squeezed her hand, dimples deepening. "C'mon... dress me up."

"Huh..." she mused, stepping back, stroking her chin. "I'm thinkin'... pink sequins... maybe a tiara..."

"I didn't say dress me up as my dad!"

***

"Which one of these things do I wear the tie with?" Chandler's voice came muffled through the dressing room door.

"The thing that it matches," Rachel laughed.

"Yeah, see, I'm a guy. That's not good enough."

"The green thing."

"They're both green!"

"The one that's the same color green!"

"How do I tell? Help me."

The dressing room door cracked, and Rachel pushed it open, inhaling involuntarily at the sight of him, standing shirtless in the black pants she'd picked out.

"They're both green," he repeated.

"Well, we know the pants work," she breathed, shutting the door behind her.

"You don't think they're too small?" he looked in the mirror critically.

"You've got the ass, babe. Show it off."

"Do I?" he asked, mouth twitching, "Indeed... have the ass?"

"Definitely." She shook her head, clearing it. "Now, about these shirts..." She plucked the green one off the hanger, and Chandler pulled it on, holding out his arms.

"You want me to button you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Shirts are so complicated," he sighed melodramatically. "I need help."

Rachel reached up, straightening his collar in the back, acutely aware that her arms were around his neck. Each breath brought the warm haze of his cologne, and his skin was so close to her lips... too close.

"Hi," he whispered, staring into her eyes.

"This is dangerous," she hissed back.

"Aw, c'mon, Rach... it's shopping. How could shopping be dangerous?"

She ignored him, her mouth set primly, buttoning buttons with shaking fingers.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Okay. That looks good. That's what you wear the tie with. And the other thing... is the one you don't. I'm outta here."

She reached for the doorhandle, opening the changing room door.

Chandler reached past her, forcefully shutting it again with the flat of his hand, his whole body pressing into her back, making her stomach flip. "Don't go. I need help with the tie."

"You don't need any help with your ti-ii-iiiie..."

He'd reached down, raking his fingernails up her thigh, kissing the back of her neck.

"Oh, but I do," he murmured against her skin. "I very much need help with my tie."

"Okay, see, this..." she gasped as his hands slid up her skirt...

"Is exactly..." and his teeth raked over her neck...

"The sort of thing..." and he entwined her fingers in his...

"We should not..." and his teeth grazed her ear...

"Be doing."

He flipped her around, banging her up against the dressing room wall, hangers cracking against each other, his mouth hammering down on her own, blotting out any further protests. All the lights in her brain flickered out and she moaned, her arms wrapping around his neck, drawing him down to her.

He kissed her jaw, the hollow of her throat, reaching underneath her to pull her into him, press her against his need. His hands ran roughly over her hips, grabbing her panties, yanking them down. She kicked them aside, wrapping her legs around his thighs, rocking herself into him, her back scrubbing against the silk of the shirts she'd picked out for him.

"Chandler, we... we weren't gonna do this anymore..."

"So we won't do it after this." She heard his belt jingle, heard the rustle of pants hitting the floor.

"They have... they have cameras in all these dressing rooms..."

"Then wave," he growled...

And slammed into her, running his hands underneath her thighs, lifting her up, bruising her lips with his own, the slippery fabric sliding behind her as each thrust crashed her into the wall.

"Chandler..." she moaned. "Oh, god, yes..."

"Say it," he whispered into her ear.

"Chandler..."

"Say it," he commanded, pounding faster, her body and mind under attack, the thin wall shaking from the force of him.

"I love you," she moaned into his neck, clinging to him.

"Again."

"I love you..."

"Again."

"I..."

But it caught in her throat, turning into a wail as flame burst through her, her body arching, strobes exploding behind her eyelids.

Chandler cried out, leaning into her, holding her there, his hands raising to her hair, turning her face to his.

"I love you, too," he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face.

Rachel gasped for breath. "You've got a funny way of making a girl say it first."

"Yeah, well," he grinned. "I'm insecure... you knew that."

She slid down the wall, holding onto his neck. "Y'know... it's funny... there are some times when you don't seem insecure at all, buddy."

"That's because of you, Rach," he said seriously, then looked down. "Um... I guess I'd better buy these pants, huh?"

She burst into laughter. "Yeah, that... might be a good idea."

"I think these are yours," he smiled, holding up her underwear.

She took them from his hand. "Seriously, though, Chandler... we can not keep doing this!"

"I know," he sighed. "But it's all your fault, though."

"My fault? You lured me in here with your tie!"

"Yeah, but you left this morning. I had plans for you."

"Oh, did you now."

"Yep... they were great plans, too. Guess now you won't ever know what they were..."

"Evil," she laughed.

"More evil," he grinned.

"Me? What did I do?"

"Just walking around looking like that is pretty evil." He ran his thumb over her cheekbone. "You're a devil woman."

"Oh, I am hardly..."

"Devil woman," he chuckled, pulling up his pants.

"I am not a..."

"Devil woman."

"Stop calling me..."

"Devil woman."

"Oh, you!" she hit him on the shoulder. "You are very bad."

"But you forgive me, 'cause I've got the ass," he grinned, buckling his belt.

Rachel shrieked, chasing him out into the hallway.

***

"There you guys are!" Phoebe cried. "Didya buy stuff?"

"Got some pants," Chandler smiled. "Did you have a nice lunch?"

"Yeah, we did." Julie clutched her bag nervously. "Um, Rachel... don't hate me, okay?"

"Oooookay...?"

"I called Eric. That's my friend that's quitting. And, well, I told him about you. And look... I know this was really forward of me to do this without asking, but... I got you an interview."

"An... interview..." Rachel repeated flatly.

"For the personal shopper position that Eric's quitting."

Rachel's eyes flew wide. "Julie, are you serious?"

"Are you mad?"

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Rachel squeaked, fanning her face before grabbing Julie in a hug and hopping up and down.

"Yeah, she's pissed," Chandler grinned, scratching his nose. "Think she'll get over it, though."

***

Rachel pounded up the stairs two at a time, brushing past Mr. Heckles with barely a glance, throwing open the door of apartment 20.

"I got the job!" she squealed, fists in the air. "I start next Monday!"

"Rach, that's awesome!" Ross cried.

"And I owe it all to Julie, Julie-Julie-come-here-and-let-me-hug-you!!!" Rachel bounced over, dancing around the coffee table. "I get a discount! I get sick days, actual sick days! Oh, and Mon, Mon you're gonna love this -- my own insurance!!"

"Goodbye, Evil Breve Lady!" Rachel screamed for joy.

"What's goin' on?" Joey asked, pushing the door open. "We heard yellin'."

"Joey! Joey! Julie got me a job at Bloomingdale's!"

"It's huggin' time!" Joey bellowed, holding out his arms. Rachel ran for him, letting him hug her.

"What's this?" Chandler asked, poking his head around the door.

"Chandler!" She ran up, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Whoa-whoa, somebody's a little over-excited," Chandler quipped, backing away and raising his palms defensively.

She blinked as if slapped, then remembered... crap. "I'm just so happy!" she squealed, running back over to Joey and kissing him twice as long.

"That's what I'm talkin' about," Joey said with satisfaction.

"Oh, Pheebs!" Rachel cried, holding out her arms.

"Yeah, no thanks," Phoebe said quickly, covering her mouth with a hand.

"So, um, guys," Monica said nervously, "I, uh, I was thinking we could do something kind of fun tonight."

"What's that, Mon?" Ross asked.

"Um... a pajama party! Here! We could all watch videos, drink margaritas..."

"That's exactly what we did last night," Phoebe pointed out.

Monica glared. "Well, it was so much fun, I thought we'd do it again! Only this time, co-ed. Whaddya say, boys?"

"Hot girls in pajamas," Joey said to Chandler.

"Yeah, I'm in," Chandler laughed.

"Now, when you say 'pajama party'," Joey said carefully, "Exactly how drunk do you plan to get, and will there or will there not be naked Twister?"

"For god's sakes, Joe, it's not gonna be exactly like 'Luscious Lesbians III'," Chandler sighed.

"You don't know that!" Joey cried in despair. "Will you let me work, please?"

"Okay!" Monica clapped her hands. "It's settled then. Everybody, go home and change!"

"Uh, Mon, that's kinda far for us, and we... well, we kinda had plans," Ross said.

"Oh, that's fine, you two don't have to come," Monica said carelessly, eyes on Chandler and Joey. "You two are coming though, right?"

"Joey never misses potential porn re-enactment," Chandler grinned. "We're there."

"I'm gonna pass on this one too, Mon," Phoebe said. "I'm still a little drunk from last night."

"Sure, okay, fine, whatever," Monica said. "Everybody, go change!"

***

Rachel shuffled into her room, her good mood punctured. Monica had all the subtlety of a two-by-four to the kneecaps.

What the hell was she going to wear, anyway? She didn't want to look like she was trying to compete with Monica... but she didn't want to look like a total slob, either... not in front of Chandler.

She peered into the mirror of her vanity, blinking at the sight of something behind her on the bed.

She turned around. Chandler's sweatshirt lay across her bed, a note on top.

She picked it up, a smile touching the corners of her mouth.

I thought maybe we could share custody.
-- Chandler


Rachel pulled her dress off and slid the sweatshirt over her head, breathing in deeply, running her hands down her torso. She threw herself down on the bed, cuddling a pillow, closing her eyes, imagining he was there.

"Rach, could you make the margaritas? I'm trying to make my hair do stuff!" Monica's voice called through the wall.

"Sure, Mon...!"

Rachel threw on a pair of sweatpants and padded into the kitchen.

"Oh, god," Chandler breathed.

"Hey, I... I didn't know you were here already..."

"Sweatpants, t-shirt, ten seconds max," Chandler grinned. He plucked at her shoulder. "You trying to torture me?"

"In a sweatshirt? No..." She tried to make her voice behave. "C'mon, help me make the margaritas."

She pulled out the blender and Chandler came up behind her, reaching for the margarita mix in the cabinet above her head. It flattened his body against hers, and she sucked in breath, memories of the afternoon pounding through her skull.

"I know... exactly... what watching you take that off is like," he breathed in her ear, sending shivers from her scalp to her toes. "Torture."

"Ohh... don't do that..." she begged under her breath.

He put his hands on her hips, her whole body molding to his. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"No, I'm sorry, I was excited and... stupid..."

"Watching you kiss Joey was the worst five seconds of my life," he whispered.

It was taking all her effort not to lean back into him, turn around, kiss him...

And mercifully, Chandler stepped away, pulling a lime out of the fruit basket and cutting it into slices.

"Hey, everybody," Monica called, leaning against the doorway.

"Damn, Mon," Chandler whistled. "I didn't know it was gonna be that kind of slumber party..."

"What? I sleep in this all the time," Monica laughed, waving her hand dismissively.

"Bet that price tag's uncomfortable," Chandler laughed.

"Ohh, man!" Monica brayed. "How many months has that been on there, huh! No wonder it always feels tickly!" She shot Rachel a look. "Rach, hon, would you come get this tag off me?"

"Sure, Mon." Rachel pulled scissors out of the tool jar and snipped the tag off the back of Monica's dress.

"Okay, you have to change," Monica hissed in her ear.

"Why?"

"Because I look overdressed and stupid! Go put on something like this, please?" Monica raised her voice anxiously. "Thanks, Rach! Now that Chandler's here, why don't you go put on your pajamas?"

Rachel went to her room, taking off the sweatshirt with a sigh, spreading it carefully across her bed. She searched her closet, finally reappearing in her doorway.

She hoped Monica didn't notice that Chandler dropped the lime he was holding.

"Guess I need to finish the margaritas," she said weakly, feeling half-naked and exposed, the air raising goosebumps on her bare shoulders. She walked back over to the blender, accepting the ice tray Chandler handed her, suddenly feeling much less cold in the heat of Chandler's stare.

"Evil, evil, you are evil," he growled.

"Monica made me," she hissed.

"Okay," Joey announced, bursting through the doorway. "I brought the Twister, and it took me thirty minutes to find it, and I stubbed my toe doin' it, but I don't want you guys to feel like there's any pressure..." he trailed off, seeing Rachel and Monica. "Oh holy crap!"

"Tell me about it," Chandler muttered.

"Okay, well, let's watch some movies!" Monica cried. "Joey, what'd you bring?"

"Twister..."

"Joey, you were supposed to bring movies."

"Ohhh... yeah, I've got a great one..."

"Not porn!"

"You're hot, but you're no fun," Joey groused, slamming the apartment door.

"I'll be right back," Monica said, walking into the bathroom.

A breath, and Rachel found herself slammed up against the refrigerator, Chandler's mouth hard on hers, one hand dragging the silk of her nightgown up her thigh as the other curled into her hair, crushing her to him. She grabbed him, hands pressing against his back, pulling him even closer, her mouth opening under his...

Click.

And Chandler was back over at the chopping block, whistling softly, a look of total innocence on his face any altar boy would envy.

Rachel pried herself off the magnets, shaking her head, pressing the blender button and letting the hideous noise clear the hormones as Monica walked out of the bathroom and began fluffing pillows on the couch.

She snuck a look over at Chandler. He grinned mischievously.

***

"It's cold in here," Monica sighed, cuddling up against Chandler's shoulder and rubbing her hand on his arm.

"You want another blanket, Mon?"

"We have plenty."

"I'll put one more on." Chandler reached behind him and dragged the throw down, arranging it over the three already covering them.

"Here, Mon, ya need body heat?" Joey wrapped his arm around her. "There, now ya got the full sandwich effect."

"Hey, Joe, wouldya turn that lamp off?" Chandler asked. "Glares on the screen."

"You want it all the way dark in here, or mostly dark?"

"All the way dark. Can see the movie better."

Joey clicked the lamp twice, and the room went black except for the TV glow.

"Thanks, man."

Rachel sat stiffly at the end of the couch, ignoring the movie, picking at her nails in the darkness, feeling her guts twist inside her. As guilty as she felt for the whole Chandler thing... that wasn't stopping her from wanting to scratch Monica's eyes out right now.

She sighed, closing her eyes, leaning her head back. What the hell was she going to do?

Something brushed her thigh... then trailed softly up it.

Her eyes popped open, flicking over to Chandler. In the blue reflected light, his poker face was flawless, his eyes on the movie, his movement impossible to discern beneath the heap of blankets, pillows, and popcorn bowls.

The hand slid slowly, ever higher up her skirt, leaving a trail of warmth behind it... then trailed across, resting on her inner thigh, spreading heat.

"Bruce Willis rocks," Joey sighed.

"Yeah, he does," Chandler agreed wholeheartedly.

Two more agonizing inches. Rachel yawned and stretched, throwing her right leg over the sofa arm, leaning back against Chandler's bicep, pulling the blanket up to her neck.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Chandler's face.

"Now, wait, what's he looking for?" Joey asked, eyes on the screen.

The fingers crept higher, searching for the elastic at her hip.

"Whatever he's looking for, he's not going to find it. It's not there," Rachel sighed.

Chandler's smile widened, and the fingers began to move... dipping, pressing, teasing, setting up a slow, steady rhythm.

Rachel reached out, dragging her fingernails up Chandler's thigh a centimeter at a time, keeping her breathing steady, keeping her eyes on Bruce as he ran through hallways.

"Turn it up, Joe," Chandler said, and Joey raised the remote.

"But the loud part's starting!" Monica protested.

"Loud part's the best part," Joey grinned. "We always turn it up here."

Explosions filled the screen and the room, and Rachel bit her lip as the pressure and speed on her doubled, struggling to keep still and quiet, her breath getting ragged. She gripped the sofa arm, knuckles turning white, the sound of burning buildings thudding in her head along with the beating of her heart.

Couldn't... move... had to be quiet... had to be still...

Her eyes closed, her lips parted, and she let out a soft gasp, her nails digging into Chandler's thigh, the world going Technicolor behind her eyelids. He watched her face, smiling gently.

"Joey!" Monica cried, sitting straight up. "Turn it down!"

"Hang on, hang on, gotta find the remote..."

"You just had it!"

Chandler grinned down at Rachel, taking advantage of the distraction, plucking her hand off his thigh and raising it to his lips.

"Love you," he mouthed silently.

She curled up against him, their hands still joined under the camoflauge of blankets, her head on his shoulder, watching Monica and Joey bicker. Chandler squeezed her hand, and she placed a silent kiss on his arm.