AN: Originally I didn't think this was going to be more than a 1-part story but you guys convinced me to continue. Thanks for the reviews.
I wake up with this horrible pain in my head and I just can't get rid of it. I sit up and everything aches. Glancing around the room, I notice a large bottle of painkillers sitting on my nightstand. I can't help but smile, even if it hurts.
Then I think of something else that makes me smile: Monica. I remember how concerned she was about my head, but I still wish I hadn't let somethin' like that get in our way. I finally muster up enough courage to ask her out to dinner and looks what happened! I hope this doesn't change anything between us – after all, she seemed pretty interested when she kissed me. That kiss – it was so tempting. But it was clear that she just meant it as a simple reminder that she wanted to continue where we left off when I got better. Well, I'm better I guess. Either way I don't want to wait any longer. But I just don't know how to go about it. Should I call her? I don't know; I just can't figure her out. I guess I better get on that.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. I slowly make my way downstairs, wondering who it is and hoping the whole time that it's Monica. Of course, she was never one to disappoint me. I open the door to her smiling face, standing there with two cups of coffee and a bag of donuts.
"Good morning," she says.
"Hey Mon," is all I can manage. I'm so surprised to see her.
"Are you feeling better?" She questions.
"Yeah," I reply, trying to sound tough.
She sets the cups and bag down on the counter and steps closer, a concerned look on her face. "Let me take a look. I may not be a doctor, but I've seen my share of cuts and scrapes."
She gets even closer and I can feel my heart start to beat faster as her distinctive scent floats over to my nose and her hair brushes against my face. She plants a tender kiss on my bruise, so light I can barely feel it. She looks up at me for a second, expecting me to say something, but I have no idea what to say. Disappointed, she goes to get plates for the donuts. Typical Monica.
"C'mon Mon, we don't need plates for those," I joke.
"Alright, alright, I won't argue with you," she replies. "You are impaired, after all."
"Hey!" I protest.
We sit down on the couch and dig into the donuts. To tell you the truth, I'm starving. I never did get any dinner last night. As we eat, we just sit there in silence. It's pretty awkward, which is what I was afraid of. I guess she's waiting for me to do something, but I don't know what to do without making the situation even more awkward.
We're both done with our donuts and we're just sitting on my couch, staring off into space. I turn to look at her, and she turns to look at me, and it's just like in the movies, except this actually is actually happening to me, so it's much cooler. Well, what the hell, I'm going for it.
At first the kiss is gentle; I think she's worried about hurting me. But it gradually becomes more exploratory – our tongues begin to get involved as our hands roam across each other. The same thought creeps into both of our minds simultaneously.
"Are you sure your head doesn't hurt and you're ready for this?" Monica's voice is lower than usual as I pull off her t-shirt and she fumbles for my belt.
I nod mid-kiss and pick her up as her legs wrap around my waist. We continue our kissing as we slowly make our way up the stairs to my bedroom, and we never look back. Little does she know I've been ready for this much longer than I've dared to admit.