Title: How This Felt

Author: Kaitlyn

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Burning lungs, dirty dancing, nightswimming and second chances...Loud music, tainted smoke, fiery kisses and racing hearts. Everyone remembers what it was like to be 18. Established R/R and eventual C/M.

Alright, I bet you've been wondering where I've been hiding Phoebe and Joey, right? Well, the truth is...it's a possibility that I forgot about them for a while. Sorry about that. Their reintroduction is in this chapter, though, so stay tuned!

Hey, anyone who hasn't should really go check out Ethan's series. It's pretty neat.

This chapter is less dramatic and is truly meant more as a means of allowing them some reconciliation and stability to their fractured relationship. Not too much conflict here. Enjoy it, because the break will be short...

One sex scene- not as graphic as the first one. Doesn't warrant a R, in my opinion. Come on, what did you expect? For them to do it once and then never speak of it again? I think you know me better than that... :-)

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"This is ridiculous. They're like over an hour late! Chandler, check the flight times again," Monica requested.

Ross, Rachel, Chandler and Monica had been sitting outside Terminal B for almost two hours to pick up Joey and Phoebe on their return flight from Michigan. The two had gone for the weekend to a Joan Baez concert that Phoebe had insisted on seeing. Reluctantly, Joey had tagged along to keep her company. Their flight was supposed to arrive at 9:00 pm, but it was now approaching 10:15 and the quartet had yet to hear word from their friends.

"No, it definitely says 9:30 p.m., Terminal B, La Guardia," Chandler revealed, scratching his head in puzzlement.

"Wait, wait, there they are!" Ross shouted, pointing to a large crowd of people walking, en masse, down the exit ramp from the terminal. Amongst them were Joey and Phoebe, looking exhausted and carrying their bags over their shoulders. When they spotted everyone, they forced feeble smiles and waved.

"Oh, I can't believe you guys actually waited for us," Phoebe proclaimed, allowing Chandler to take her bag from her. She blew a loose peace of shiny blonde hair out of her eyes. She looked worn out.

"Of course," he insisted, "but what took you guys so long?" Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"The flight was delayed an hour because of mechanical difficulties," Joey answered for her, securing his bag over his shoulder. "So I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to get the hell out of here."

The fatigued, slightly disgruntled group headed back to Chandler's Excursion and piled inside. Up front, Chandler and Monica fought over the radio station, and Phoebe and Joey fell instantly into a deep, jetlag-induced sleep. In the back, Ross was pressed securely against the side of the car with Rachel's head lying against his shoulder. Ever since their reunion, they'd been noticeably more affectionate. Monica and Chandler had called them out on it several times, but that had always proven ineffective. Ross tucked Rachel under his arm and ran his other hand up and down her thigh. He turned his head and kissed her softly on the temple.

"Are you tired?" he asked sweetly and softly. She nodded and rubbed her head against his shoulder, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Do you want to sleep over tonight?" he asked, a bit hopefully. Since her parents' house had been sold and she was only 17, making her too young to rent an apartment, she had moved in with her aunt, who lived a convenient 2 blocks away from Ross and Monica. Usually gone on business trips or, as of late, to visit Rachel's mother in California, Aunt Debbie was seldom home.

"Sure," Rachel answered, keeping her eyes closed but still smiling at Ross' endearingly hopeful question. After a few more moments of silence in the SUV, Chandler posed a question from up front.

"Hey, what do you guys all think about taking a road trip?"

"To where?" was Ross' immediate reaction and first question.

"I don't know," his best friend answered, shrugging. "It doesn't really matter, does it? The fun part's the journey, not where you end up." At this, Rachel looked up a Ross somewhat seriously, catching his attention with her intense gaze. She squeezed his thigh and rubbed her hand caringly over his knee.

"I don't know...I think where we end up is pretty important," she whispered. Ross smiled knowingly. She had obviously not been speaking to Chandler, and doubted if he had even heard her.

"Alright, fine, you big babies," Chandler conceded from the front. "How about...New Orleans?"

"No way!" Monica protested. "It'll be like 200 degrees down there during the summer AND we're not old enough to drink. All they have there are bars."

"What about those fake I.D.s Ross and I were so thoughtful to buy you?" he asked teasingly, smiling to himself.

"I think using those for a whole week or two would definitely be pushing our luck. New Orleans is out. What about...Chicago?"

"What the hell's in Chicago?" Rachel asked, finally speaking up for the first time that night.

"Plenty of stuff," Monica defended. "There're clubs, bars, theaters, nice restaurants, great shopping-"

"You mean kind of like New York?" Ross quipped.

"Okay, Mr. Smartass. Does New York have dozens of film festivals? And is New York bordered by one of the Great Lakes? And does it have Comiskey Park, home of the White Socks? See? There's LOTS to do in Chicago!"

"Monica, we could go watch Rent and a Yankees game if we wanted theater and baseball," Ross protested. "If we're going to go somewhere, it needs to be somewhere not at all like New York."

"What about California?" Rachel asked feebly. There was a silence for a moment before Ross answered her.

"What's in California, sweety?" This question was awkward and everyone knew it. Rachel's mom. Of course, Rachel managed to sidestep that landmine effortlessly. She WAS always good at relieving tension.

"I don't know, you just said you wanted someplace unlike New York. California is practically the opposite of New York. It's sunny and friendly and relaxed. There are beaches and resorts, and it might be the one place in America with shopping better than ours."

"You know, she's got a point," Monica intruded. "Plus, the fact that it's across the country would just elongate the road trip. It's perfect!"

"Alright, then," Chandler approved. "California- here we come!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Uh oh," Ross teased, smiling from ear to ear and holding up a small black thong sitting amongst a huge pile of clothes on Rachel's bed. "Looks like someone's expecting to get lucky on this trip." He winked playfully at her and braced himself for the slap across the chest that he saw coming from a mile away. She giggled and shook her head, continuing to fold and pack.

"You're unbelievable," she mumbled.

"Unbelievably...sexy?" he solicited, picking up a shirt and folding it for her. He'd come over that afternoon to help her pack for the impending trip. They stood beside one another beside her bed, packing suitcases and canvas bags and purses full of toiletries and clothes. After his joke, he smiled and looked slyly at her from the corner of his eye. She was smiling, too, though she said nothing to encourage him.

"Ah, looks like someone LIKES my jokes." With that, he stopped his folding and grabbed her arm, stilling her motions as well. She looked up at him, somewhat astonished and confused by his gesture. He just looked back at her steadily, grinning sweetly but seriously. Then, seemingly from nowhere, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

She let him embrace her, closing her eyes and encircling her arms around his middle, clasping her hands together at his back. He sighed deeply, reveling in the fact that this was normal again. They just stood there like that together for a few moments, neither saying anything or even acknowledging the fact that this motion was outwardly random. Finally, Ross pulled away when a particular song came faintly but definitively over the radio.

"Through the storm, we reach the shore.

You give it all, but I want more..."

"Hey," he whispered, gesturing towards the radio and smiling at her. "It's our song." Rachel furrowed her brow and looked pensive for a moment.

"It is?"

"Sure," he nodded, taking each of her hands respectively in his and scooting them away from the bed into the middle of the floor in her room.

"Since when?" she asked. She hoped she wasn't forgetting some life-altering, relationship-defining moment they'd shared together. There sure had been a lot of those over the past year. Had one of them involved this song?

"Since now," he answered simply, as if it were obvious. "Come on." With that, he pulled her towards him firmly by her lower back with his right hand and look her right hand with his left.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked, giggling a little at the absurdity of the situation and Ross' apparent lack of shame or inhibition.

"Dancing, of course. Now, 'shhh'. You're messing up my rhythm," he insisted, clasping her right hand more firmly in his left and leading them around the room in time with the song.

"Ross, this is silly! No one even dances like this anymore!"

"We do," he stated, suddenly serious. He gazed down at her and caught her stare, holding it as they moved and smiling weakly but with more sincerity than he'd ever before mustered in his life. He dropped her hand for a moment to push some hair out of her eyes and let his fingers graze her lips. Once he took it again, though, she pushed her head against his chest and let him move her around the room.

"I can feel your heart," she whispered, giggling sweetly and causing him to chuckle as well. Then, she stopped his feet and planted hers on the ground, forcing them to stay in that spot and only sway calmly to the song. She dropped his hand and moved both of hers to hug his waist and squeeze him to her. They were no longer dancing, but rather holding one another in the solitude of the room and rocking shallowly to the words.

"I can't live without you-

with or without you."

They did not even run their hands over each other- didn't move to make it anything more. They merely buried themselves inside the other and remained lodged firmly there while U2 played the last, dying melodies of the song through the transmitter. Even when the song was over and only the obnoxious sarcasms and quips of the disc jockey seeped from the alarm clock, they stood wrapped in each others' embrace.

Smoothly, Ross used one arm to reach behind her to her desk, picking up a black-and-white framed picture of them together. He brought it around to where she could see it and smiled, holding it up for her.

"Our 1 month anniversary," she whispered, nodding subconsciously and tracing her fingers over the glass.

"It felt like a year," he commented, not taking his eyes from her. He watched her look at the picture- watched her eyes light up as they darted around it, taking it all of it.

It was taken in the kitchen of her house. They'd stayed in for the evening and tried to make dinner together, which, of course, had turned into a complete disaster. Both were doused in flower and Canola oil, with smears of chocolate and caramel across their cheeks and shirts. He was standing behind her at the counter with one hand around her waist and the other covering up her mouth. You could still see her immaculate, radiant smile shining through from behind it, though. Her eyes were lit up with the same loving fascination in the picture as they were right now.

"God, I was so happy," she mused, shaking her head with nostalgia and perhaps a bit of sorrow for her juvenile naivety. Ross' smile faded and his face dropped instantly.

"You...you're not happy now?" he enquired, setting the picture frame back behind her on the desk and running his hands up and down her arms. She shook her head and smiled, placing one hand on either side of his face. She traced his lips with her thumbs.

"No, that's not what I meant. I just meant..." She considered for a moment how to continue, staring intently at his lips and swathed in some lost revere. She sighed, making eye contact with him and smiling reassuringly. "I just meant that I didn't have a clue. I mean, I didn't have a CLUE about how to make a relationship work. I had no idea what one even was. I was happy...but I hadn't earned it yet."

This convinced him, picking up his bruised ego and dusting it off a bit. He was content with her answer, grinning and perhaps even fishing for compliments a bit. A certain gentility and unadulterated sweetness shone through his questions, though, and her heart melted at how poorly he was masking his concern for her- for them.

"So you feel like you've earned it now?" His eyes are so...puppy dog, she thought to herself. She moved her hands from his face down to his chest, patting him there and scratching him softly through his shirt.

"Yes," she teased a bit, whispering it in a velvety, seductive tone just beside him ear and leaning in provocatively to rub herself subtly against him. Before he knew it, she was nibbling on his ear and running her hands over his back.

"Well," he joked, taking a deep breath and enjoying the feeling of her against him again. "Looks like I've earned something, too."

"Oh, you have," she agreed, giggling softly and sweetly into his ear as she continued her nibbling. She walked them back to the bed and laid down on top of him, moving from his ear to his jaw. He closed his eyes and thanked whatever faceless, nameless, fated force was allowing him this undisturbed utopia. He ran his hands up and down her back, sliding them underneath her shirt to feel her skin.

"What for?" he whispered, almost afraid she would decide at the last minute that he actually HADN'T earned this.

"For being the best boyfriend in the world," she answered satisfactorily. While that answer may have seemed trite or unoriginal in other situations, coming from her lips in THIS particular one made his toes curl and sent shivers up his spine. "You know..." she continued, having stopped her ministrations and slid a bit off of him and to his side, but still keeping a leg and arm draped across his legs and torso. "Debbie's still out of town." She raised a provocative eyebrow, smiling insinuatively and running her hand over his chest and stomach.

"Are you sure?" he asked, as she was sure he'd do EVERY time, probably until they were married and possibly even after. Instead of answering verbally, she nodded and laid her face close to his on the pillow, closing her eyes and nudging her nose against his cheek.

That was all the reassurance he needed. He took it upon himself to remove both of their clothes before anything else. She just laid there, content to watch him work. Just like last time, because she was too scared and he was too respectful to do it any other way, he climbed on top of her and settled down between her knees, melting into her and watching her face contort in pleasure (and maybe a bit of sporadic pain) and feeling their breaths mesh together in the interstice.

Afterwards, he pulled the blankets up around them and let their bodies cool off beneath the airy sheets. After their pulses had lowered and their breathing returned to normal, she burrowed herself into his side and laid an arm and leg over his body. Her head found it's way into the nook of his shoulder and his arms rested limply against her back. The rest of the packing would have to wait for the next morning.

"So we're leaving tomorrow, huh?" she asked, tracing her fingertips softly over the firm muscle of his stomach.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "You ready?"

"Ready to get the hell out of here, that's for sure," she answered, surprising even herself a little bit.

"What's here that's so bad?" he asked, immediately knowing the answer and feeling idiotic right away. She answered tastefully and subtly, though, as always.

"What's here that's so good?" Answering a question with a question. Flawless, Rachel. Flawless.

"Me," he teased, kissing her forehead and feeling her body jerk gently as she giggled.

"Oh, no," she whispered, the words sodden with tenderness and playfulness. She leaned up and kissed the very tip of his nose, patting him on the chest. "I'm taking you with me."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

End Chapter 17. Continued in Chapter 18.