Chapter 4

A/N: Ok, so this wasn't finished by Thursday. Surprise, surprise.


"And that, Chandler Bing, is the proper way to fold a napkin." Monica smiled satisfactorily, gazing down at her handiwork. The cloth napkin that Chandler had simply folded in half moments before was now the shape of a beautiful Origami figure. Sure, it had taken her over ten minutes to complete, but the finished product had been worth it. Let's see how you can criticize this, Mom, she thought gleefully.

"Cooche cooche coo, Emma!" Chandler said in a pacifying, baby voice, his head over Emma's carrier, which was stationed on the kitchen table. He then pulled his ears outwards and tried his hardest to look like a monkey. Apparently it worked – he thought she giggled pretty hard for a baby. Realizing his wife was talking to him, he poked his head up and asked, "I'm sorry, what?

Monica sighed in aggravation. It had been like this for the past four hours. She would attempt to get Chandler to do something useful, but he would wind up playing with the baby, watching a show that he "had to see" on TV, distracted by a speck of dust on the wall…Deciding that she could always give him napkin folding lessons later, she replied, "Never mind. I can't believe Rachel just left Emma and not even checking with us!"

"Well, to be fair, Rachel was a little hung over, and Ross had his own problems…" Sensing he should stop from the way his wife looked at him, he quickly said, "To hell with fairness - how dare they do this to us!"

Monica couldn't help grinning. Chandler always knew how to cheer her up when she was stressed. "I thought so. Now, I'm going to go take a nap. The food's in the oven – don't you even think about touching it. Wake me up in about fifteen minutes. The last thing I want is Mom walking in when I'm taking some down time."

Chandler saluted. "Yes, ma'am. Any other commands?"

"Yeah." To his surprise, Monica gave him a passionate kiss. "Work on that monkey face. It's very cute."

"You betcha." Chandler waited until Monica has closed the door to their bedroom. He then immediately started making as many monkey faces as he could, and not just for Emma.


Chandler's face was beginning to hurt from constantly being pulled in a dozen different directions. But he didn't really mind. Emma's cheeks were beet red from giggling so much, and he knew that Monica would appreciate his efforts later that night. He was about to resume practicing when the doorbell rang.

His head popped up, petrified. No, it couldn't be… Frantically he glanced at the clock…and groaned. He was supposed to have woken Monica up ten minutes ago. He stood still for a moment, trying to decide what he should do first – get Monica up or answer the door. Figuring that it would not be the best thing to keep Mrs. Geller waiting, he ran to open the door. "Hi, Mom," Chandler greeted, plastering a non-panicky smile on his face.

"Hello Chandler," Mrs. Geller gushed, enveloping in a big hug. She walked in and began to take off her coat.

"Oh, let me get that for you."

"Thank you, dear. Now where's Monica?" She looked around the apartment, thinking maybe she missed her.

"Oh, uh," Chandler paused, coming up with an excuse – something he was getting used to. "She's getting changed. I'll go tell her you're here." Not waiting for a response, he dashed into the bedroom, Mrs. Geller's coat still in hand. Entering his bedroom and closing the door behind him, he whispered, "Monica?"

There was no reply. He hurried to the side of the bed, kneeling down as he draped the coat over the foot of it. "Mon?" he asked, this time a little louder. Knowing that he didn't have much time, he started shaking her and saying her name in her ear.

Finally, Monica's eyes half-opened. "Huh?"

"Honey, sweetie, you have to get up. You're mother's here."

"What?" Monica's eyes shot up the rest of the way as she leaned forward to check the clock. She then restrained herself from killing her husband. "Chandler! You were supposed to wake me fifteen minutes ago!" She jumped out of bed and ran to her closet, picking out the nicest thing she could in five seconds. "Go keep Mom busy while I get dressed. What did you tell her I was doing?"

"Getting dressed." Grasping that that didn't give Monica much time, he rushed out into the living room before she could yell at him again.


Chandler slowed to a saunter as he went up to Mrs. Geller. "Yeah, she'll be out in a few minutes."

"What's taking so long?" Mrs. Geller questioned. "A host should not keep her guest waiting."

"Yeah, uh," Chandler stammered, "She couldn't decided whether to wear her blue top or white one. I told her to wear the white."

Mrs. Geller stared at him, perplexed. "Didn't your mother teach you anything? It's not proper to wear white before Memorial Day. She should have known."

Chandler laughed nervously. "Actually, my father told me that. Must have slipped my mind. I'll go tell her to wear the blue one." He ran back to the bedroom, then faint bickering could be heard. After a few seconds, both of them emerged, Monica wearing her black pants and only suitable blue top. Much to his relief, Chandler noticed that they looked nice together, since he had on his khaki slacks, white shirt, and blue sweater vest.

"Now, isn't that better?" Mrs. Geller asked as she hugged and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "Really, Monica, what were you thinking?"

"I don't know, Mom," Monica said through clenched teeth. "I guess I was in a rush."

"That's another thing. Haven't I always told you to be readily waiting at the front door at least a half hour before guests are due to arrive? Honestly, it's like you're getting senile."

"Thanks, Mom," Monica's fake smile grew even wider than before. Thinking of something to change the topic, she asked casually, "So, how was the drive?"

"Long," Mrs. Geller sighed, "I'm so used to your father driving me. I think I got lost twice. You know, his feelings were a little hurt when he found out that you didn't invite him. He always loves your cooking so much. I can't see why, but he does."

Monica suddenly felt the urge to wrap her hands around her mother's neck and….Shaking her head to clear it of such thoughts, she explained, "It's a Mother's Day dinner, Mom. Besides, I can always make up a doggy bag for you to take home to Dad."

"That would be lovely."

Glimpsing the opportunity to get Monica and her mother to start talking, Chandler spoke up, "Not that this isn't the best darn small talk ever, but I really have to go over to Joey and Rachel's to see why they're not here yet." In reality, he had told them to come at six, along with everyone else, so that Monica and her mother could have a long time to talk. But the two of them didn't have to know that. "Be right back."

Monica gave him the evil eye. "Chandler, I'm sure they'll be here any minute. Sit down."

Chandler inched backwards toward the door. "No, I'm sure Mom would agree that it's 'not proper' for guests to arrive late. Be right back." Ignoring Monica's objections, he slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

"Mom, I think I'll go with him. He gets distracted easily." She went over to the door and tried to open it. She was surprised to find that it was locked. When she saw that her mother was staring at her, curious, she laughed nervously, much the same way Chandler had before. "You know what a kidder Chandler his. He probably thought this would be funny. No problem, though. I'll get my key." Monica got her purse from the counter and thoroughly searched it. Her key, nor her spare one, was in there. More to herself, she muttered, "Chandler, when you get back here, your butt is mine. And not in a good way."

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Geller asked, then decided that she didn't want to know. "Monica, what's going on? Why would Chandler play a practical joke at a time like this?"

"He's Chandler. Trying to be funny at the wrong place at the wrong time is what he does." Realizing something, she hurried over to her bedroom. Sure enough, it was locked too. She then checked all the other doors in the apartment. The only door that wasn't locked was the bathroom, and she couldn't stay in there for more than five minutes. Well, maybe ten, if she pushed it.

Then she got what he was doing. His words from yesterday came back to her. "It really bothered me that you and your mother don't get along. I thought maybe you guys could talk things through." Monica groaned and pressed her back flat against the bathroom door. This was his way of making sure they talked.

"Sweetie, is something wrong?" Mrs. Geller began walking over to Monica, concerned.

Peeling herself off the bathroom door, she walked back into the kitchen, followed by her mother. "No, nothing's wrong. You're right – this is just one of Chandler's little practical jokes. He does this all the time." The only difference now was that she didn't feel like laughing. Wanting something to do to distract her, she began to sauté the green beans for the casserole that would go along with the chicken marsala. She had originally planned to do them a few minutes before she put dinner on the table, but there was no time like the present. Besides, Monica consoled herself, everyone else will be here soon. There's no way he can keep them out in the hallway for long.

"This really is inappropriate of Chandler," Mrs. Geller disapproved. "Locking us into the apartment like this? He's lucky we don't call the police. Really, I would think that you've told him how to act around company after almost a year of marriage."

That did it. Knowing she wasn't going to get to them for at least another half hour, she pushed the green beans farther into the counter. She turned around to face her mother, who, upon seeing the look her daughter wore, backed up a few steps. Monica said slowly, "No one talks about my husband that way. Not even you."


A/N: We're almost finished! The next chapter I'm putting up is the last one, I swear! Not that you will be happy about it (I hope); I'm happy that I'm going to finish this on time for Mother's Day. Yippee! Did I just say "yippee"?

Reader Responses:

TEN reviews for one chapter! Wow!

Exintaris: Oh, duh. smacks self in head You're right about the review thing (that it would be a lot of work), so I am trying out my new consolidation techniques in this chapter.

. (Anonymous): Yes, but he also loves her very much and wants her to be happy. Monica would be happy if she was reconciled with her mother (see the connection?). It doesn't matter, really – that's why they call it fanfiction.

mam: Wow, that was really long…Anyway, yeah, about that review, see my response to Exintaris. I only respond when there's stuff to respond to. It just so happened that everyone's review was interesting. Thanks for the compliments, and definitely review my other story! As for the grammar thing, yeah, it bugs me a lot, but I think I would insult people if I personally emailed them about how bad their grammar is (no offense). Maybe something non-rude in a review response, but I think an email would be a little over the top. You can do whatever you want to do, but I'm just sayin.'

Chan4Mon4EVA4EVA: In America, Mother's Day is the first Sunday in May. You can pretend it's in March, though. I don't think it makes a difference. Glad you liked it! (I like your word, "confuzzled." I think I might start using it)

I loved it that so many people like how I portray the characters and feel like they're watching "Friends"! That's the BEST compliment! I guess watching "Friends" all the time finally paid off.

Special thanks to rachgreengeller (as always), Jayne Leigh, Meredith Sans, americnxidiot, LucyGoose, and DrKerryWeaver!