A/N: Thanks for all the support, everyone! And, thank you for your patience as well. I know it's taken a bit longer to update than I would've hoped. But remember, slowly but surely wins the race, or . . . whatever. Enjoy, and ignore me. I tend to be hopelessly clueless when it nears the weekend.

-

"And, so, I took your advice, and now –" Ross shrugged and held up his hands. "Voila! They love me! I mean, I just handed them the hundred dollars, and all of a sudden, I was a total celebrity, and I had people bringing me drinks, and shaking my hand . . . I mean – this hot girl, Jen – she was totally all over me! Needless to say, I'm going out with her tonight." Ross leaned back against the couch and picked some imaginary lint from his sleeve. "And if all goes well, I may show her more than just my fossil slides, if you know what I mean."

Monica sloshed her iced tea and raised her eyebrows. "So you caved? What about your principles?"

"My principles?" repeated Ross. "Screw my principles! I'm the VIP guest at Howard's awesome par-tay!"

"How are you the VIP guest?" she asked skeptically. "Did you lick their shoes clean?"

Ross scowled at her. "No," he said derisively. "I was just my charming self."

"And?"

"And I gave them the hundred dollars."

"And?"

Ross crossed his arms and looked down at his crumb-ridden plate. "And I joined their union."

"And?"

"Okay, so it wasn't a hundred bucks!" Ross admitted begrudgingly. "It was more, like . . . three hundred . . ." Monica's eyes widened; she choked as she tried to repress her laughter. Ross looked highly offended. "They were staring at me, okay? I gave them the hundred, and they just kept . . . holding out their hands . . . what was I supposed to say?"

"Fuck off, moochers?" suggested Monica lightly, setting her tea down carefully on a coaster.

Ross glared at her. "If I said that, I would have been exactly where I started, genius."

"Oh, lighten up," she scolded. "They like you now, don't they?"

Ross grinned, despite himself. "Yeah, they do like me."

Monica patted his knee. "Then there you go."

At that moment, Phoebe burst through the door of Central Perk and meandered over, dropping a heavy rucksack onto the armrest of the sofa. Ross and Monica looked incredulous.

"My quarters," Phoebe explained. She brushed a strand of blonde hair from her eyes.

"Oh," they said. Ross raised his eyebrows contemptuously.

Monica asked, "Why the quarters, Phoebs?"

"You will not believe how hard it is to buy things with spare change!" Phoebe exclaimed. "I got kicked out of line, like, three times!"

"Shocking," Ross said.

Monica glared at him. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

"Yeah, well." Phoebe shrugged. "At least it was better than sitting in a dark room all night looking at pictures of dead lizards."

Ross cried, "You said you had fun!"

Phoebe took a drink of Monica's iced tea. "This is how I recover from fun, Ross, geez. Don't get in a twirl."

Ross stared at her disbelievingly. "I'm not – getting in a twirl!"

"Yeah, whatever."

"I'm not!" he emphasized loudly. Phoebe looked unfazed. "I'm not! It's not even an expression! You made up an expression! You CAN'T DO THAT!"

Phoebe yelled back, "WE WERE ON A BREAK!"

"WE WERE!" he countered irritably.

"Oh my GOD, Ross, cut it out!" Monica cried.

"You cut it out," he mumbled. Phoebe smiled triumphantly.

Monica gathered up her belongings and stood up. She pushed her iced tea towards Phoebe, who took another sip and crossed her legs. "You guys won't kill each other, promise?"

"You're leaving?" asked Phoebe. "So is this like, work-work or," she whispered excitedly, "the other thing?"

"What's the other thing?" Ross asked them.

Phoebe responded quickly, "She works at a – at a – a children's hospital."

"Really? Where?" he asked curiously.

"It's secret," Phoebe said quickly. "And nobody's allowed in there, because – the diseases – they'd kill you . . . you have to wear suits and everything . . . full body suits . . ."

Monica cried, "Okay, got to go to my work-work, Phoebs!"

"Oh, okay, then have fun!" she said.

As soon as Monica was gone, Ross turned to Phoebe and asked, "So is that how she got strep throat?"

-

"He actually thought that the fossil was named Brenda," Ross said disdainfully, and he and Phoebe traipsed into Monica and Rachel's apartment a half an hour later. "I mean, who's ever heard of 'Brenda in the Sky With Diamonds'?"

Phoebe looked wistful as she fished haplessly in the ceramic cookie jar. "I wish I was in the sky with diamonds."

"No, no," said Ross. "No, no. That's not the point – he actually thought –"

Phoebe plucked a plum from Monica's centerpiece and made a scoffing noise that sounded like 'pushaw'. Ross stared at her.

"What was that?"

"What?" she asked innocently.

"What's 'pushaw'?"

"Oh, you know, like, 'She's late again, pushaw!'"

Ross clasped his hands in inner turmoil. "Um, Phoebs, I believe it's 'pshaw', for future reference –"

"So?"

"So – it's pronounced 'pshaw'. You're saying it wrong."

"It's how I say it! PUSHAW!" Ross cringed. "Pushaw, pushaw, pushaw!"

Ross and Phoebe looked up as Chandler opened the door and made a beeline for the couch. "Hey Dino Dude." He nodded at Phoebe. "Crazy Lady."

"Hey man, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"No, dude, I'm not working till two," Ross replied.

Chandler clutched nervously at his coat pocket and looked around the room. "Hey, have you guys seen Monica?"

Phoebe observed him skeptically. "First tell us why you're so twitchy."

Chandler visibly paled. "I'm not twitchy!"

"And your voice is all squeaky –"

"Yeah, dude, you need some Ritalin or something –"

"Listen, have you seen Monica or not?" Chandler said peevishly. "I need to talk to her, and I've been everywhere. I tried her work, I tried the coffeehouse, here . . ."

"So really everywhere," Phoebe said, biting into her plum. Chandler stared at her.

"Well?" he insisted desperately.

"You just missed her, man, she went to work about a half an hour ago," Ross said. "What's the deal? Is there something wrong?"

Chandler slung his coat over the sofa, plopped next to Phoebe, and crossed his arms. "Just this thing," he muttered. He stood up again restlessly. "That's it, I'm making some crappy homemade coffee – you guys want some?"

"No thanks, I'm crapped out today," Phoebe said.

Chandler shrugged and walked into Monica's eerily pristine kitchen. "Your loss. Hey, I'm gonna get some packets from my place, I'll be right back."

"Something's wrong," Phoebe said, as soon as Chandler was out of earshot, "he's all normal and un-quippy, and – and – he's making coffee!"

"I know," said Ross, "there's something fishy going on around here."

Phoebe looked disdainful. "Okay, yeah, Ross, but we're not like a gang of kids and, like, a talking dog who solves crimes."

Ross stared dubiously at her for a long moment. "Phoebs, the point is – what are we going to do?"

"Not drink his coffee, for starters," Phoebe advised.

"Not really what I was looking for, but whatever."

Phoebe sighed. "If he's not willing to talk about whatever's bothering him, then, I mean, there's not much we can do. Unless, we, like, tortured him for information – but I haven't done that in years, so I might be rusty –"

"We're good, Phoebs," Ross assured her quickly. "You know what? If he doesn't want to tell us, he doesn't have to tell us."

"Yeah," said Phoebe, looking disappointed. "I guess. It sucks being a good friend." She stood up, lugging her rucksack of quarters. "Okay, well, I'm going to raid some new stores. I still need to buy utensils and crap."

"Oh, okay, have f –"

Phoebe spontaneously reached into Chandler's coat pocket and pulled out a twenty. Ross shot her a disapproving look. "He's paying off his 'Phoebe's such a great friend, she does so much for me' debt," she explained cheerily, adding the crisp twenty to her pocket. "He'll understand."

"At least one of us will," said Ross. He glanced at Chandler's coat pocket again. "Hey, what's that?"

"What's what?" Phoebe asked uninterestedly, brushing back her hair.

"That," said Ross, reaching into the pocket. He pulled out a small black box; his eyes widened.

Phoebe looked thunderstruck. "Oh my God." She looked at Ross in shock. "You're getting married again?"

"No!" he said defensively. "This isn't mine!"

"Oh my God!" Phoebe cried. "Oh my God!"

"What are we Oh my God-ing about?" Chandler said, as he walked through the door with a handful of small coffee packets. He saw what Ross was holding and stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh my God."

"Chandler, what's going on?" asked Ross incredulously. He stared at the black, velvety box. "I mean, it's a ring, dude! A ring!"

Chandler swallowed. "Yeah. I know."

"Well," said Ross, looking anxiously at him. "Well, who the hell is it, then?"

Chandler's lungs failed him.

"I – um, I – it's really hard to, uh –"

Phoebe suddenly yelled out, "It's Janice, okay? Janice!"

"What?" Ross cried.

"What?" yelped Chandler.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Phoebe said, closing her eyes dramatically. "You know you had to tell him sometime, Chandler! You've been hiding it from everybody for too long! Too long!"

"Yeah, um, it's a shock, isn't it?" said Chandler.

"I'd say so!" Ross cried. "Dude, why didn't you tell me?"

"He's been secretly dating her!" Phoebe said loudly. "And he was afraid how you'd react! And – and – they're eloping!"

"Yes," deadpanned Chandler, "apparently I'm from the nineteenth century, and a bastardly cheapskate."

"We have to tell everybody!" Ross said excitedly, ignoring Chandler's biting sarcasm. "Dude, I can't believe it! My best friend . . . you're really getting married?"

"That's what the ring's for," he replied, forcing a smile.

Ross looked almost giddy. "We have to tell everybody! We need to tell Rachel, and Joey! Phoebs, you call Monica and tell her to come home from work, we have big news!"

"M-M-Mon-Monica?" Chandler stuttered, panicky. "No, no, no, Ross, I can't tell Monica about this, I mean –"

Ross grinned. "Oh, okay. I get it."

"You do?"

"Oh, totally. She wanted to plan all my weddings, too," said Ross, rolling his eyes. "Here, you can call her at work and I promise to act surprised when you tell everybody later."

Chandler stared at him, laughing uncertainly. "Thanks, man. I . . . I owe you." He looked pointedly at Phoebe. "And Phoebs, you have no idea how much I owe you."

"It's okay, I already took your twenty," she said.