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It took Rachel a moment to bring herself back to reality, away from that lingering trance she'd been suspended in, filled with thousands of memories of their yesterdays. It was the velvety magnetism of his voice that pulled her back into the moment.
"Rachel?" he gulped, still holding the opened box out to her, his tone actually guarded and worried, now. Her eyes, wide and teary, noticed the way the dim light caught the diamond and reflected off of it.
"Yes?" she asked, though she knew it was both a question and something elsesomething more certain.
"Yes?" he asked hopefully and suddenly, both misunderstanding her word and decoding its true meaning.
"Yes," she stated this time, nodding and smiling.
"Yes!" he exclaimed, snapping the box shut, clapping his hands together once loudly, and jumping up from his knee to take her in his arms, lift her, and whirl her around. She yelped and giggled and embraced him back, waiting for him to set her back down to take his face in her hands.
"Yes," she whispered again, this time through free-flowing, unrestrained tears. "Yes."
"Yes!" The exclamation hadn't been uttered by either of them, and when they turned in the direction of the collective yell, they saw a group of 3 emerge from behind a giant partition, clapping and beaming proudly.
"It's about damn time!" Phoebe explicated, smiling from ear-to-ear.
"What is this?" Rachel asked Ross, her arms around his middle, looking astounded, if not a tad embarrassed, that her friends had been there the whole time.
"Yeah, I kind of invited them," he revealed. "I thought since they put up with us for so long, they all deserved to be here."
"Well, not really all," Rachel pointed out. "Joey's not here."
"Oh, he's coming," Chandler butted in. "He said to tell you sorry he couldn't get an earlier flight, but he'll be here later tonight."
"Well, then, I guess this calls for a celebration!" Monica grinned. "Drinks at the Plaza?"
"Aw, Mon, come one, we don't have to do that," Rachel humbly shook her head, one arm still draped around her new fiance's waist. Her best friend smiled warmly.
"No, it's okay. I want to." She took her friend's hand and squeezed gently, reassuringly.
"Alright then," Rachel cheerfully commenced, clapping her hands together once, "let's start celebrating!"
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The assemblage of five rolled up to the 5th Avenue hotel around 7 o'clock that night, dressed to the nines and escorted by a decked-out limousine, ordered and paid for collaboratively by Chandler and Joey as a prelude to an engagement gift for the couple.
Stepping out of the sleek, black luxury vehicle and onto the asphalt, Ross wrapped his arm around Rachel's waist and placed his hand low on her hip, tucking her protectively to his side, having never been more proud to show her off as his- not only his girlfriend or the mother of his child...but his fiancee. She was wearing a tight, black, strapless dress with strappy black heels and diamond necklace to match her new ring. Matching her black attire elegantly, but also a bit more casually, Ross sported a simple white undershirt with the top collar unbuttoned, black dress pants and a black blazer. With the sleeves rolled up and his hair gelled, he didn't look a day over 30, and the woman at his side, playing with his hands and purring in his ear, made him feel even younger.
The interior of the hotel was decorated extravagantly, as expected, based upon all of their (few) previous encounters with the establishment. Everything seemed like a haze of some combination of gold-plated, crystal, mahogany, or granite. They made their way back to one of the many lounges, taking their seats at the bar and breathing in their hustle and bustle of their glamorous surroundings.
Chandler's cell phone chirped over the background of people laughing and socializing.
"Yyyello'," he answered cheerfully. After a beat, his eyebrows rose and a smile spread across his face. "It's Joey! He's in a cab on his way here."
"Oh, tell him to hurry!" Rachel chirped, obviously giddy to see her recently estranged friend. Ross looked down at her and smiled at her ceaseless buoyancy and the way light and glamour seemed to seep from her skin. She was glowing. He nuzzled his nose to her ear and kissed her cheek, unable to contain his excitement. Tonight was, with the exception of the days Emma and Ben were born, the best moment of his life.
The bartender was soon taking their orders, flipping bottles, setting the counter aflame and whatnot, adding to the upbeat and impossibly exhilarating ambiance of the evening. Within minutes, the sixth and final member of the group came bounding through the double doors of the lounge, a toothy smile painted across his face. After the routine "heys!" were cast, and, of course, the customary hugs, Joey started in on his personalized congratulations for the happy couple.
"So what about you two, huh? I can't believe it!" He wrapped his arms around both Ross and Rachel, squeezing tightly. "Did you do it the way we'd talked about?" Ross turned his glance down, bashfully, and merely smiled and nodded, but Rachel was intrigued.
"Wait a minute, so everyone knew how you were going to do it?" she asked. Looking around, they all nodded.
"Well, technically, Rach, you knew how I was going to do it," Ross pointed out. "Remember?" Rachel paused for a moment before she realized he was right, so she let it go.
"So," Joey continued, "what's next?"
"Well, customarily, the wedding," Chandler chimed in.
"I mean after that," the Bert to his Ernie corrected. "You guys are already living together...you have a kid...why didn't do you this sooner, again?"
"Well, hey, look how great it turned out!" Ross pointed out. "We just get to have all the fun stuff, now, like the wedding, and the honeymoon, and the tax breaks! We don't have to worry about all the technicalities, like, you know, moving, and selling apartments. So, really, I just made it easier by wai"
"Oh, come on, admit it. You were just too nervous to do it sooner," Rachel teased, swatting him playfully on the chest and grinning. In return, Ross smiled back and thread his fingers through hers, leaning into her and kissing her forehead. Tonight, as much as he loved being in the presence of their friends and sharing this momentous occasion with them...well, tonight was about him and his future wife. Nothing else mattered as much as that.
An hour or so later, the six found themselves slightly tipsy and paired off on the dance floor, singing and dancing to oldies and top 10 pop songs, alike, cocktails still in hand, partying more like they did in their early 20s and less like people in their mid 30s. When a slow song mellowed the mood of the crowd, Ross grabbed Rachel and pulled her tightly into him, possessively wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his nose in her hair. He smiled at how familiar it smelt and how soft her skin was against his. With her stomach pressed tightly against his, her back slightly arched where his hands met at waist, and her head resting against his chest, he didn't think they'd ever fit together more perfectly. They were molded as one.
A slow piano part lulled the crowd, and the bodies of individuals became only a part of a collective sea of swaying. The base was slow and deep, but the tune nostalgically familiar.
When the night has come and the land is dark and the moon is the only light we'll see No I won't be afraid No I won't be afraid Just as long as you stand Stand by me
His thumbs rubbed in a disciplined up-and-down motion against the curve where her back met her ass, and even through the fabric of her dress, she got the chills. He kissed her hair, then her forehead, then, ever so lightly, her lips. A smile. An acknowledgment. Gratitude. Eternal gratitude.
If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall Or the mountains should crumble to the sea I won't cry I won't cry No I won't shed a tear Just as long as you stand Stand by me
When she burrowed her cheek more firmly into the nook between his shoulder and neck, he thought he felt the stinging coolness of a tear evaporate against his skin, but he couldn't be sure. He didn't need to look at her face, though, to know she was feeling the same thing he was feeling. Relief. Finally. Things were right.
Darlin', darlin' Stand by me Stand by me
Suddenly, inside himself, Ross felt a hot, throbbing, entreating drive. It wasn't wholly desire, but it wasn't as innocent as relief or gratitude. He was noticing the swaying of her hips, and feeling the softness of her skin, and admiring the long shimmer of her hair, and the pout of her lips, and the way her fingers were digging possessively into his back, and he was slowly realizing that this...this was his engagement night. His final engagement night. The only engagement night he'd ever wanted- had ever dreamed of- since he was a boy.
And now, appropriately enough, he was feeling like a boy again. He was feeling that same aching he had when he was 17 and would see Rachel from a distance in the hallway or, Jesus, when he'd brush shoulders with her in the tight proximity of the kitchen when she'd be over visiting Monica. The glorious difference now was that he knew she wanted him back, and, not surprisingly, based upon his knowledge from their enumerate sexual encounters, he couldn't wait to get her home where he wouldn't have to just look longingly. From what he could tell, she was having the same thoughts.
"Uh, Rach?" he whispered lowly in her ear, so rough and pining that it was more like a moan.
"Yeah, I know," she giggled, rubbing his back in circles and smiling innocently at him (though he knew she wasn't thinking innocent thoughts).
"Any ideas about how to get out of here without offending anyone?" he asked, realizing instantly, however, when she stepped away from him and he got his first good look at her in a while, that he was finding it exponentially harder to care about offending anyone and almost solely about being alone with her as soon as possible.
"Well," she began, smiling mischievously and pulling him towards her by his shirt, "thisis a hotel..."
Catching her drift, his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop, stunned with utter disbelief at the sight and possibility presented before him. Playing with the dress material on her hips, he cocked an eyebrow.
"Are you suggesting we sneak away?" She nodded. "Rachel Green, I didn't know you had it in you."
"Oh," she began, sucked in air through her teeth and walking her fingers up his chest to land them on his lips, "I have a feeling there's a lot you didn't know I had in me."
Grabbing her suddenly and forcefully by her waist, much like he had the time she'd told him she liked the idea of him in a sailor uniform, he pushed her quickly away from the middle of the dance floor, out of the lounge, into the lobby, and up to the front desk.
"Stay here," he commanded, his tone no longer playful but determined. Bounding up to the man behind the counter, he requested- no, demanded- the first available room. Knowing that this was The Plaza and, consequently, it was most likely almost entirely booked for the next 6 months, he would take anything he could get. He needed her. Now. No obstaclemonetary or otherwisecould stand in his way.
After booking a rather expensive room that would ultimately end up setting them back a few hundred dollars for the rest of the month, Ross grabbed her hand assertively and pulled her in the way of the elevator. Fueled off of his obvious excitement at the vicariousness and spontaneity of what they were about to do- that it was so unplanned, so reckless, so irresponsible and so secretive- thrilled Rachel.
Admittedly, their love life hadn't been as impulsive since they'd gotten back together so many months ago. They'd had a lot of baggage to get rid of. There'd been a lot of nights of needy sex, preceded by enraged arguments and cold shoulders, proceeded by crying and slammed doors. There'd also been a lot of routine, which they hadn't been used to the first time they'd dated, as they hadn't had the added pressure and responsibility of an infant to take care of. They both loved Emma more than life itself, but a baby does little for romance.
Tonight was their chance to start over- literally, a new era of their life was beginning, and it would be, fittingly enough, inaugurated with a vibrancy they'd reclaim from the last era. They'd begin their life as a married couple like they'd ended the one as 20-something fools in love. It was almost heartbreaking in its ingenuousness. They were opening a new book without having to completely close the last one.
When the elevator doors opened, Ross let out a thankful sigh when he realized it was empty. Pulling her swiftly inside before the doors closed, he quickly turned her around and pressed her against the metal side of the small space, grabbing her waist roughly with one hand and bracing himself with the other one on the wall beside her head. His mouth was everywhere as soon as the doors shut, both moving their heads from one side to another, alternating, grinding their hips together, moaning into each other's mouths.
'Our room is on the 9th floor,' he thought. 'That's enough time to kiss her, to touch her.' He was desperate for anything. He would crawl inside her if he could. He clawed at her back, her ass, her breasts. Only the "ding" of the machine reaching its programmed destination reminded him that he couldn't take off her clothes. 'Not yet. Not here. Collect yourself.'
Whether anyone was in the hallway, he was unsure of. He refused to tear his lips from hers even long enough to check or to walk to the room. Stumbling backwards, he pulled at her hips and urged her forward, reminding him much of the night of her going away party, when they'd so recklessly staggered backwards to his bed, as much passion fueling them now, if not more, than had that night.
Room 1703. Theirs. Not a moment too soon. Fumbling with the lock while she began unbuttoning and untucking his shirt, kissing his shoulder, his throat, his back, he slid the jagged metal clumsily into the lock and forced open the door, leaving just enough time to step inside before slamming it closed again.
Before he knew it, she had his jacket off and his shirt fully unbuttoned. Neither even knew what the interior of the room looked like, as the lights had yet to be turned on and they hadn't torn themselves from one another since they'd entered. Pressing her against the wall beside the door, he could feel himself beginning to unravel already. Even for as many times as they'd been together (and with other people, for that matter), he still had to pace himself when he was with her. She was so hot and everywhere at once and he was so lucky...
"I wont make it to the bedroom," he whispered into her ear, sucking on it for good measure and pressing his groin into her stomach to exhibit his point.
"Couch," she moaned between kisses, allowing him to pick her up and carry her backwards into the dark, unexplored vastness of the room, feeling around for walls and objects but also not wanting to take her hands from him. This time didn't need to be perfect. This was their engagement night, so she knew full well this wouldn't be their only time. This time, however, was about right nowabout them being together, physically, to celebrate the commencement of a spiritual togetherness.
Finally finding the plush velvet couch, the color of which was indistinguishable through the dense blackness, he sat her on the arm and positioned himself between her thighs while they proceeded to undress each other. He rid her of everything- even her necklace- except for the ring. Fitting. Emblematic. Symbolic.
"I love you," he couldn't help but moan into her mouth, the phrase spilling out of him against his will. He felt it so innately- so deeply and instinctively- that he sometimes thought he wouldn't be able to keep from saying it even if his life depended on it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangled her hands in his hair, and kissed him even more passionately, nodding in return.
"I know, baby," she whispered, running a hand down his cheek. He stopped the intensity of their actions for a moment to pull back and look at her- her eyes watering from utter satisfaction and her lips curling into a smile that only he'd ever see. He brushed the bangs from her eyes, wrapped his arms tightly around her, and placed an open-mouth kiss on her shoulder. They sat like that for a few minutes, breathing together and slowing down, taking a moment for each other in a suspended embrace, seeping into the other's skin. He kissed her shoulder again, then her collar bone, then her breast, and back up to her neck. Speeding up again to match their earlier pace, he attached his lips back to hers and slid his hands beneath her ass, walking her around to straddle him on the couch.
When he lowered her onto himself, a deafening ringing encompassed his ears. The room spun. His head floated. His vision blurredexcept for her face, her face was always clear. This was his Great Awakening. This was his Armageddon. This was the only thing he'd ever need again, and he could die happy.
His biceps expanded and contracted as he lifted her up and down into his lap, and she watched them pulsating, turned on by how seamlessly he could bear her entire weight. He'd always been able to do that. It was one of the many reasons their sex had always been so amazing. He could govern her with his strength and she him with her toxic equanimity.
He was her protector. Her keeper. Her guardian. She belonged to him, and him to her, and every grunt and bite he purged into her shoulder only reaffirmed that. Every bead of sweat that dropped from her hair or brow onto him baptized him anew. He was reborn in her.
At one point towards the end, when he was pulling her especially hard into his lap, his mind already beginning to cloud and his judgment more than slightly on the brink, she was breathing impossibly hard and moaning what he thought was a bit harshly and, oh shit, he was hurting her, he was sorry, what had he-
"I'm sorry," he repeatedly murmured into her chest, kissing her a thousand and one times, rubbing her back, stopping his thrusts, folding himself over and into her. "Shit, I'm sorry, sweety."
"No, no, it's okay," she breathed, stroking his hair and kissing his temple. "You're okay."
Reaffirmed, he began again, knowing it wouldn't be too much longer. It wouldn't take much more. She was close, too- he could feel it. He could always feel it. The warning signs were variations on a theme, every time. She'd squint her eyes tightly, throw her head back just so, moan and breath from a deeper place in the back of her throat, and, most prophetically, she'd begin to subconsciously whisper his name, over and over again. He'd never heard it said so eloquently. It was his favorite part of the encounter, every time, to hear his name pass so rhythmically over her lips, so deprived and desperate for him. She'd done it every time, all 387 times, now, since that very first time underneath those forged stars on the planetarium floor. 'She wants me,' he'd thought that night when she'd called out his name. 'Rachel wants me.'
He hoped to God she only did it with him- that that was his, theirs, together, to share.
Soon, all of her would be his, theirs, together, to share.
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