A.N. Okay, so this chapter is PURE C&M mush. You all deserve it after staying with me through the angst and obstacles of 10 chapters! And I needed to write it after that, too! Okay, little warning of adult content here- nothing too bad, but I forget the rating of this story so, children, you've been warned. Also, I think we're looking at 2 or 3 more chapters. So thank you SO much for being so amazing (I can't believe I've broken 220 reviews in 10 chapters, that is such a great thing!) and I'm glad you're still enjoying this. Love you all!
Maddy.
As usual, they had to turn the lights on for Chandler to finish his match, after all the other players had come off and the respective coaches had penciled in either a W or an L on their scoring sheet. His coach, a middle-aged NYU alum himself, considered Chandler Bing one of his favorite players; a smart kid, enthusiastic, and diligent in practice. However, that didn't make him any less frustrated at Chandler's uncanny insistence at drawing any match he played, even those he should easily win, to the full three sets. Second singles was always the last position on the court, never fail.
That Thursday evening, the usual audience huddled on the bleachers in front of the marathon match on court two; his teammates, the other team and their coach, a few over-zealous parents, and Monica Geller. The other tennis-fan students, even Chandler's closest friends, had checked out nearly an hour earlier, the smells of dinner wafting them home for an evening of food and study. But the coach had to smile at the Geller girl's unwavering support of his team; she had barely missed a match all year, cheered at key moments and knew when Chandler needed encouragement and when he needed silence. She was a pretty little thing, and all the guys on the team took turns flirting with her while Chandler was playing; but seldom could one of them tear her attention away from the court long enough to have a conversation. She made it perfectly clear who she was there to see.
Monica forced herself to sit on her hands, a new defense strategy against the horrible nail biting habit she had developed as a result of Chandler's dramatic match endings. She watched as he ran in for the approach shot, executed it with a perfect angle into the far left corner, and slammed away the weak overhead that was returned. The crowd cheered, and Chandler grinned (his favorite part) and stayed at the net as his opponent jogged up to shake his hand. NYU, 4, Colgate 1. The team was undefeated.
Chandler joined his teammates for a meeting, and a stern but smiling lecture from his coach on knocking off the grandstanding and how he should have won the match in straight sets instead of dragging it on so long, and then ran over to Monica and enveloped her in a bear hug, fully aware of the sweat drenching his uniform.
"Ew!" she exclaimed, trying to wiggle from his firm grasp. "You're sweating, get off!"
"That's my congratulations?" he asked incredulously. "Almost a three hour match, and you'd begrudge me a hug?"
"Hey, I stayed for the entire three hours. If anything, you owe me dinner."
He laughed, and kissed her on the nose. "Anything for my super-fan."
"Bing! Team dinner at the house!" yelled Harper, one of the doubles players.
"I've got plans," he shouted back, lifting up Monica's hand.
The team made the required cat calls and Monica laughed good-naturedly as Chandler led her back towards their dorms.
"You could have gone, I really wouldn't mind," she said honestly, reaching up to brush a lock of damp hair from his forehead.
"I don't want to," he replied. "I want to take you out to dinner."
"Victory dinner," she corrected. "You were amazing."
He kicked a stray pebble. "Coach didn't think so. Took too long again."
She shook her head. "You know he's just hard on you because he likes you so much."
"He thinks I drag it out on purpose, because I like the attention, but it's not like that, Mon, I swear- I don't know what it is but I get to a point where I just can't finish it off when I should, I can't…" he trailed off, kicking another stone in frustration. She nodded. After almost three months of dating, she had become an expert at reading his moods and how to handle them. Reassuring him of his talent right now would only frustrate him further. They walked on in silence for a few moments more, and he reached out and squeezed her hand.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
"What for?"
"For always being there and knowing what to say and what not to say."
She smiled. "You're welcome."
It was a warm night, early May just before finals, so Chandler and Monica decided to order in Chinese and have a picnic on the quad.
"You have a ton of work this weekend?" he asked, picking through a carton for broccoli and dropping it in hers, as she rooted through another and deposited shrimp in his.
"Yeah. Finals and all," she said, shuddering as she gave him the last of the shrimp. "I can't believe you like this. It has the weirdest texture."
"You and your textures," he teased good-naturedly. "I can't believe you like broccoli, I mean, who likes broccoli? Not just tolerates it, or eats it for nutritional purposes, but actively enjoys it?"
"At least you love what I hate and I love what you hate," she concluded, leaning back on her side.
"So you're not gonna be too busy on Sunday, are you?" he asked after a few minutes of small talk.
"Sunday? Why, what's Sunday?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent, holding out just long enough for him to get properly annoyed before breaking into laughter.
"Very funny," he said dryly.
"I totally got you," she said, mimicking his expression.
"Can you believe it's been three months?" he asked.
"Nope," she said. "I can't believe this year's almost over. It went so fast."
"Parts of it did," he agreed.
Her face fell a little, and she twisted noodles around her chopsticks.
"I can't believe I'm leaving in a week, and you're staying here."
"Hey, come on, it could be worse. It's barely a two hour drive," he consoled, rubbing her bare shoulder.
"I know, but still. You'll be here, living with your mom in some penthouse apartment, interning at some prestigious company, going to clubs because you'll be 21 and meeting girls and having them fall instantly in love with you, and I'll be in Long Island with Ross and my parents, working at the same summer camp I've been working at since I was fifteen," she complained.
"Okay, so many things wrong with what you just said. First of all, penthouse? My mom hasn't even given me a definite answer on whether she'll be renting a place this summer, so she could just as easily be in Los Angeles or London or Tokyo, which would put me right back into NYU housing with some weird stranger for a roommate. And I'll be too tired from working hellish hours at a grunt level position, filling coffee mugs and stapelers for some hot-shot lawyer or something, to be clubbing at night, not to mention I'll be too heartsick for you to be meeting girls, who most definitely will not be falling in love with me, as I will be wearing a sandwich board with your picture on it. See, there we go, I did it. You're smiling."
"It's not funny, I'm sad."
"I'm sad too, babe, but we'll visit and before you know it we'll be back at school. I promise, okay?"
She nodded slowly. "Okay," she whispered, leaning over and kissing him softly. "I love you a lot, you know?"
"I know!" he imitated her playfully.
Two nights later Chandler and Monica approached the door to her building , after an expensive dinner for which Chandler had been saving for weeks, and a nearly perfect anniversary evening. She tugged at the thin straps of her summer dress and turned to face him, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness.
"Thank you for a perfect night," she said, standing on tip-toes to place a kiss on his lips.
"Almost perfect," he corrected, pointing at the still-drying wet spot on the skirt of Monica's dress where a novice waiter had poured water.
She shook her head. "Perfect," she stated again.
He smiled, and took in her appearance for the millionth time that night. Her pale blue dress made the blue of her eyes look darker and more intense, and the early summer weather they'd been having had brought out more freckles on her nose and chest and shoulders. A few strands of hair had flown loose from the barrette and dangled messily in front of her face. He gently brushed them behind her ear.
"You are so beautiful," he said quietly. "I can't believe I've been with you for three months. I'm the luckiest guy in the world."
She smiled wider, leaning in for another kiss. His tongue entered her mouth hesitantly at first; he was always hesitant at first; and she reciprocated, their arms winding around one another. They broke apart several minutes later, breathless, and she asked the question she'd been wrestling with whether or not to ask for days.
"You wanna come up?"
He twisted her hair between his fingers. "Yes," he answered without missing a beat. "But I don't think Rachel will be too excited about the idea."
"She's still home for the weekend, studying. She won't be back until tomorrow."
Chandler grinned, and led the way upstairs, expecting nothing more than the usual make-out groping session they had been enjoying for the past several months when one of their roommates was out of the room. Monica followed slightly more anxious, because she knew something he didn't. She knew that she wanted it to be tonight.
They discarded of Chandler's jacket quickly and sat down on her bed, and he smiled sweetly before moving in and kissing her passionately. Ten minutes later, his tie was on the ground and his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and she was pinned underneath him, kissing his neck and chest and running her fingers through his hair.
"Mon… Mon," he said hoarsely, lifting himself off of her slightly and catching his breath. She laid her head back and looked at him questioningly.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing, I just need a minute."
"What for?"
"Because if I don't stop for a minute right now, I may not be able to stop later," he told her with a sly smile, pecking her lips quickly.
She shrugged, surprised at how calm her voice managed to come out. "So who's asking you to stop?"
He looked at her, trying to guage the meaning of her words. "You mean, like, not stop?" he stuttered.
She nodded, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Is that okay?" she asked, and a look of pure innocence flashed in her blue eyes, and he buried his head in her neck, kissing her, then laid beside her on her pillow.
"Of course that's okay," he whispered. "I don't want you to rush anything, is all. I know you haven't…" he trailed off.
She looked down at her hands, then back into his eyes. "I've been thinking about this," she whispered back. "And… well, I'm leaving in a few days…"
He shook his head. "Mon, facing a few months apart is not the reason to do this. I don't want to just 'get it over with'… I want you to be ready."
"I am ready," she insisted. "I love you. The last few times we've fooled around… God, Chandler, I've had to force myself away from you."
He smiled wryly. "I certainly understand that feeling."
"And I know you love me too," she continued. "And I love how you want to make sure this is right for me, it just makes me love you more… and it just makes me want this more," she finished, nibbling his ear.
"I can't believe I get to be your first," he said incredulously, kissing her slowly and moving back on top of her. She laced her fingers through his and rested their hands either side of her head as he peppered her face and neck with kisses.
"You're so beautiful," she said softly, taking their hands up so she could run a finger along his cheek.
"God, I love you, Monica," he told her, covering her mouth with his, the last coherent words they spoke for a long time.
Yeahhh… so the whole quoting Long December lyrics at the beginning of every chapter was a cute idea, but I didn't expect this series to be this long, so… I've run out of applicable quotes. To be honest, the last few were stretching it at times, haha. So I think instead of repeating them, I'll just wait until the last chapter and include the whole song. So in case any of you were wondering J Review! Thanks!