TOW the Body Switching

Summary: Phoebe's attempt to stop Monica and Chandler's arguing causes the two to switch bodies, and, accidentally, Ross and Rachel as well.

Time frame: General season 8. Rachel is noticeably pregnant; Monica and Chandler are married.

A/N: I know this is really unoriginal, but I just really wanted to write it. Yeah, so what if main characters switching bodies has been done a million times? This is my take on it. It'll be quick, I promise.

Prologue

"I just don't like it."

"Why? There's nothing to worry about," Chandler argued. He and Monica were fighting again. It seemed like they were doing that a lot lately. He had gotten a new female assistant, who Monica had learned of when she called him and the assistant answered the phone.

Although he had to admit it wasn't the only reason they had been going at it. Recently, everything bothered her. He might forget to put away an article of clothing, or clean up the kitchen after she told him to…basically whatever he did, or didn't do, she nagged him about it. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was pregnant.

Then there was work. It had been really busy, with him getting home later every night. Monica kept saying that she didn't see him enough anymore. He totally agreed, but what was he supposed to do, quit? Besides, it wasn't entirely his fault. She kept working the dinner shift at the restaurant.

"Yes there is." Monica went into the kitchen, where Phoebe and Joey were seated at the table. They had walked into the middle of the argument, and were now watching it like a tennis match, their eyes going between the two. "I mean, normally I wouldn't worry about other women being attracted to you –"

"Gee, thanks," Chandler retorted, his arms crossed. He was in front of the couch, perched on the top of it.

Monica gave him an exasperated look. "That's not what I mea…okay, it is. It's that you've been working late every night. What am I supposed to think?" She took out a loaf of bread from the cabinet and began gathering other ingredients. Joey had asked for a sandwich a few moments earlier and she hadn't gotten around to making it.

"That I have a lot of work to do!" Chandler supplied in a "that should have been obvious" tone. "Mon, we've been married for a few months, and have known each other for at least ten years. I'd hope you would know me better than that!"

"I thought I did," Monica sighed. "We've been at each other's throat's so much that it's not too hard to imagine you…you…"

"Look, Monica, I'm sorry you feel this way," Chandler responded, softening his tone. "I really do wish there were some way you could go to work instead of me so that you can see there's nothing going on! I mean, she isn't even flirting with me! In fact, if I were single I would find it a little insulting!"

"Why? Is she attractive?" Monica pounced, her hand on her hip.

"Oh," Phoebe commented to Joey. "He should not have gone there."

Joey nodded, keeping one eye on the sandwich fixings. "I know, what was he thinking?"

"Is she?" Monica repeated.

"Well…" Chandler stalled, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to be entirely truthful either. "Um…some single men may find her pretty…"

"What do you think?" Monica inquired.

"She, um, she…is nowhere near as beautiful and sexy as you are," Chandler replied.

"Noooo," Phoebe sunk in her chair.

Joey shook his head. "Bad move, dude, bad move."

Monica rounded on him. "But you do think she's beautiful and sexy? On some level?"

"There ya go," Joey muttered.

"No! No no no no no!" Chandler protested. "I –"

"I thought so." Monica slapped the plate, now full with Joey's completely made sandwich.

"Thanks, Mon," Joey murmured, slightly afraid of her at the moment.

"I can't believe you! All this time, 'there's nothing going on, she's totally not into me' and then you go and say she's beautiful and sexy!" Monica shouted, pulling the refrigerator door open. "Juice?"

Chandler winced at her unexpected sharpness. "Huh?"

"Not you," Monica nudged Joey's shoulder. "Juice?"

"Oh, uh, no, I'm good," Joey assured her.

"Okay." Monica slammed the door shut, then ran into her bedroom. Chandler wasn't far behind.

Once the room was quiet again, Joey remarked, "I hate it when Mom and Dad fight."

Phoebe gave a short laugh, but got over it quickly. "Joey, this is serious! I think one more fight like that and they might break up!"

"Pheebs, they're married! Married people don't break up. They get divorced…" Joey's face became shocked. "You don't think they would –"

"Maybe. I mean, Monica is related to Ross, and you know how Ross is," Phoebe reasoned.

"How am I?" Ross walked into the apartment, followed by Rachel. He had to open the door slightly wider – Rachel was at the point during her pregnancy where she could no longer squeeze through small spaces.

"We were talking about divorce, and we thought of you," Phoebe supplied.

Rachel lowered herself into a chair, then questioned, "Why were you talking about divorce?"

"Oh, it's, nothing. Monica and Chandler have just been arguing a lot," Phoebe told her.

"They can't be more than us," Ross retorted. "I swear, Rachel is being such a baby."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm pregnant, Ross. It's easy to be a baby when there's one growing inside me."

"She's got a point," Phoebe defended. "I should know. Being pregnant is tough. She deserves to whine every once in a while."

"'Every once in a while' is fine," Ross agreed, taking a seat at the table next to Joey. "It's when it's every five minutes. That gets annoying."

"Hey! You wouldn't be so quick to judge if you had to carry an extra twenty-five pounds around your middle without a break," Rachel informed him.

"Twenty-five?" Phoebe asked in surprise.

"Well, I'm 140 now," Rachel began, but at Phoebe's stare she broke down. "Okay, twenty pounds. But it's still heavy!"

"Please," Joey chimed in. "I could carry twenty pounds around all day with no problem."

"Yeah, me too," Ross agreed. "Men wouldn't complain nearly as much if they were the ones who gave birth."

"Oh, really?" Phoebe and Rachel replied simultaneously, both giving him death glares

"Definitely!" Joey supported. "We'd be able to take a lot more."

"Right," Ross nodded. "Like, we wouldn't be asking our spouses to fluff our pillows or get the magazine that's a foot away from them or make us breakfast in bed for a whole week because we can't get up –"

"Well I'm sorry if me carrying your child is inconvenient for you," Rachel snapped Realizing she had nothing to pretend to ignore him with, she asked, "Joey, can you hand me that magazine that's on the counter over there?"

"Sure Rach," Joey reached for the magazine, but was stopped by Ross, who grabbed his hand.

"See, that's what I'm talking about!" Ross smirked, letting go of Joey's hand. "You can get that yourself. It's a few feet away."

"But it requires getting up, which means it might as well be a mile away," Rachel pointed out.

"But you could get it yourself if you really wanted to," Ross retorted.

"No, I couldn't," Rachel protested.

"Yes, you could."

"No I couldn't."

Ross shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I mean, you are pregnant, so you really can't do anything for yourself, can you?"

Rachel seethed. "Fine, I'll show you. I really can't get it." Putting one hand on the table and the other on the back of her chair, she tried to push herself up. After two failed attempts, she did, in fact, manage to stand. Hoping that Ross hadn't noticed, she quickly fell back in the seat. "See? I can't do it!"

Phoebe wiped her hands on a nearby towel. "Okay, you're all done."

The attractive, twenty-something man sat up from the table, making sure the towel still covered his sensitive areas. "Thanks, Phoebe. I feel so much better. I must have gotten a knot in my back from working out."

Phoebe was barely listening, staring at his toned abs. "Uh huh. Sure, no problem, Tim."

Tim raised an eyebrow, noticing where Phoebe was directing her eyes. "I'm up here." When she, embarrassed, diverted her gaze he commented, "You know, when your hands were on my back, they seemed a little tense themselves."

Phoebe sighed, sitting beside him on the table. He was a regular client, and the two had gotten to the point where they talked for a few minutes after each session. She was hoping he would ask her out one of these days. "Yeah, sorry. But if you want a refund, it's not happening."

"No, that's not what I was getting at," Tim laughed. "Come on, what's bugging you?"

"It's my friends," Phoebe told him. "Two of them are married, and they've been at each other's throats. I'm worried about them."

"Hm, I think I can actually help you there." When Tim leaned over to get something out of his jacket, Phoebe had to restrain herself from pinching his butt. "My girlfriend is into that supernatural crap."

Phoebe's mood considerably deflated. That's why he hadn't asked her out. Figures. All the good ones are taken. "Oh, your girlfriend…"

"Yeah, sorry." He had returned to sitting position, a small rectangular bottle in his hand. "She gave me some of this. She says it's an…'elixir of desire' or something. It grants wishes, or so she says."

"Like a genie?" Intrigued, Phoebe took the vial and examined it.

"I guess." Tim shrugged and took his shirt from where it lay on the couch. Much to Phoebe's disappointment, he pulled it on. "Normally, if you just want something, you drink it and make a wish. But since it has to do with your friends too, they have to drink some. Don't worry, it's all-natural."

Phoebe frowned. "They'll never go for this. They're non-believers."

"They don't have to know," Tim informed her. "My girlfriend was going on and on about this, trust me on this one. Just slip some in their drinks – a little drop is fine. As long as they want the wish to happen subconsciously, it will. The wish just has to be specific. If it's too general it might have unwanted consequences."

Phoebe twirled the bottle around in her fingers, thoughtful. "But what wish would get them to stop fighting?"

Tim gave her a comforting pat on her shoulder. "I'm sure you'll think of something."