Monica woke grumpily. On work days she normally slept until noon, then got up and did whatever in the afternoon before heading to work at four. She peered blearily at the clock and discovered it was only ten. Which meant something had woken her.

A muffled crash and exclamation gave her a good hint. Throwing back the covers, Monica got out of bed, threw on a robe, and stormed towards the front door.

She flung it open to the sight of chaos. The door opposite was open and the apartment beyond was half-full of cardboard boxes, but no people.

A quiet curse made her look down the hallway towards the stairs. A man was leaning over a box on the landing, shaking his hand. With a sigh he grabbed the box and straightened to a respectable six-foot height. His eyes saw her and Monica felt something like a physical shockwave hit the both of them. Beyond all ability to control, her eyes moved down to his foot and back up again, and she found herself blushing slightly. "Hey Chandler."

"Hi Monica." He looked over at the door she had just opened. "So you live across the hall, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. So, so you're moving in, huh?"

"No, I just want some place to store my furniture while I live out my dream of hiking to Chile."

"Oh, hah. Better, better get started." Oh my God, this was almost physically painful. Monica found her mind spinning in circles frantically searching for something to say.

"Yeah. Guess I better." The box nearly slipped from his hands and he clutched it convulsively.

Monica ran up to grab the box before it fell. "Here, let me."

She took it from him and it was heavy, most likely filled with books. Monica adjusted her grip slightly and carried it into the apartment. She set it down to the side and blew out a breath. She eyed the apartment and found that it was much smaller than hers, with a kitchen not nearly as nice and no view to speak of out of the small windows. Still, it was a reasonably-priced apartment in the city, which Chandler probably appreciated.

Monica turned and saw him standing in the doorway, an expression of surprise on his face. "Wow. You're the strongest woman I've ever met that didn't work at the circus."

Despite herself, Monica smiled. Same Chandler, with the never-ending attempts at wit. "Give me a few hours a week and I could get you into shape, too."

Chandler looked at his naked wrist and shook his head. "Can't, Andy Griffith is on. That Opie, he's quite a card."

"Hah." Monica walked towards him and he stepped aside so she could leave. "Let me know if you need any help."

"Sure thing. But I already have some help."

Movement down the hall turned Monica's head. A man was carrying another large box down. Tall, broad shoulders, a thin frame that didn't have much muscle but wasn't flabby either. His hair and eyes were dark brown, almost black. When he spoke, his voice was well-modulated and sounded intelligent. "Hello."

"Uh hi. Hello. Hi." She had no makeup on, she hadn't taken a shower or even combed her hair, she was dressed in a stupid bathrobe of all things. A blush began at the bottom of her neck and began creeping upwards at an alarming rate. "Muh... muh... Monica!" Oh my God, how lame could she possibly make herself sound?

The tall man set down the box and stretched out a hand. "Kip."

"Kip." His grip was strong. "Hi Kip. Are you, are you Chandler's?"

"I'm his roommate, yes. Do you live in the building?"

"Yup, uh huh." With regret Monica released his hand and pointed. "There, right there, you need anything ever, you knock, or just come on in, I live alone." Babbling, she was actually babbling. At what point had she turned sixteen again?

"Thank you." Kip smiled again, then bent down and lifted the box, affording Monica a generous view of his not-unpleasant-looking backside. Monica followed it all the way until it disappeared inside the apartment.

Suddenly she realized Chandler was still there. Monica looked over at him and attempted some kind of recovery. "You, you too, Chandler. Let me know if you need something."

"Sure." Chandler looked much more subdued. He gave her a half-smile, then trudged back down the hallway, probably to retrieve more boxes.

Monica dawdled a bit but Kip remained inside, ripping open boxes from the sound of it. With a sigh Monica went back into her apartment. She closed the door and leaned against it, considering her next step. Cookies, that would be good, everyone liked cookies. After a shower. Maybe she should shave her legs, too.

Grinning, Monica got an early start to the day.

Almost timidly, Monica knocked on the door. A few seconds later it was opened, and Chandler raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Hi Monica."

"Hi." She lifted the tray she was holding. "I brought cookies."

"Wow, thanks." Chandler stood back and Monica entered. Her eyes darted around but she saw no signs of Kip. What she did see was lots of boxes, some of them still unopened, and a few pieces of furniture which didn't seem to go together.

Chandler, in the meantime, had moved over to the kitchen and was digging through a box. "I've got cups here somewhere, and I can make a mean glass of milk to go along with those nummy cookies."

Monica shuddered slightly. Cups directly out of a moving box? "Why, why don't you and Kip come over to my place to eat them?"

Chandler straightened. "Kip's at work, but I'll come over."

Darnit, not what she had in mind. "Okay, this way."

She led him to her apartment. He looked around and nodded appreciatively. "This is nice, very nice. How much you paying?"

"Uh, not as much as you I'm sure." She set the cookies on the kitchen table and motioned for him to sit. "It's in my grandmother's name, so don't tell anyone she doesn't actually live here anymore."

"Mum's the word." Chandler took a cookie and began nibbling on it.

Monica grabbed milk from the refrigerator. "So why's that whole place still a mess? You moved in three days ago."

"Well, it's a long and difficult process of arranging things just so. We could be at it for months."

Monica felt an itch on the back of her head at the thought of all that mess. "If you need any help arranging that stuff, let me know, I'll be glad to help."

"Thanks." Chandler accepted the glass she handed him. "This is a very good cookie. You should be a chef."

Monica grinned. "I am."

"Really?" Chandler laughed. "Well, I can see why. Er, taste why."

Monica poured herself a glass and sat down. "So what do you do?"

Chandler waved off the question. "Some stupid processing stuff, it's only a temp job. It's just to hold me over until I can find a writing gig."

"Oh, you're a writer? I didn't know that's what you studied in college."

"I actually studied Medieval Literature and Advanced Girl Repelling. Nothing scares women off like quoting the Morte d'Arthur at them."

Monica laughed and took a bite of cookie. This hadn't been nearly as awkward as she'd thought. She sipped her milk and looked over at Chandler and found herself blurting out, "I'm sorry about your toe."

Chandler gave her a quizzical look. "That was years ago. You've apologized to me like a thousand times."

"I know, I know." Monica felt her face beginning to burn and heard her voice beginning to rise in register. "I just... every time I see you I feel guilty."

Chandler took a big bite of his cookie while studying Monica. After a few seconds of chewing and swallowing, he put the cookie down, clasped his hands together, and leaned forward. "Look, that's all in the past, okay? Let's agree not to talk about it any more. I can just be the cool, witty, sexy guy that moved in across the hall." He paused. "Or I can just be the guy that moved in across the hall."

Almost despite herself, Monica smiled.

Chandler smiled back. "Point is, let's start over, all right? I'd hate to think that some stupid toe thing is getting in the way of my ability to eat more of these cookies." He picked his half-eaten cookie back up and showed it to her.

Monica laughed. "All right, deal."

After a single firm nod, Chandler took another bite out of the cookie.

The intercom buzzed. Mildly annoyed, Monica got up and answered it. "Yes?"

"Hey, it's me." Ross.

Monica pushed the button that would allow the building door to open. She walked back over to the kitchen table, where Chandler was now lounging in the chair, a new cookie in his hand. Monica found her eyes tracking where crumbs could potentially fall, ready to pounce if he moved the cookie over the floor.

There was a knock on the door. Monica didn't turn around as she called out, "It's open!"

A second later Ross was inside. "Hi Mon. Hi Chandler, I was actually looking for you."

"Hey man." Chandler stood up, cookie in hand. "Wanna see the new place?"

"Sure." Ross spied the cookies and grabbed one before following Chandler out the door. Monica trailed behind, her fingers twitching. Chandler she could almost forgive, but Ross should know better. Now she'd have to sweep the whole floor again.

Chandler had begun some kind of monologue in his apartment. "So see, this is the kitchen, which you always want right by the front door in case you want to open up a sandwich shop in the hallway. This area right here is currently the box staging area, although we hope it might be a kind of living room some day. Bathroom is conveniently located here, and if you stretch out both arms you can touch each of the opposite walls. There and there are the bedrooms, with a lovely view of the building six feet away. The décor is Contemporary Sloppy, which we hope to update to Neo-Laziness in a few weeks."

Ross chuckled. Monica looked through the boxes on the kitchen counter and began pulling out plates.

Chandler seemed surprised by her presence. "You, you don't need to do that."

"Actually, she does," Ross said with a smile. "If I wanted my bedroom cleaned I'd just lock Monica inside, and she'd shout and yell and then straighten everything up."

"Then when he unlocked the door I'd beat the snot out of him." With an effort, Monica stepped away from the boxes. "I'm sorry, I just don't like... messy things."

"That's an admirable trait." Chandler grinned. "Mind if I lock you into the apartment for a day or two?"

Monica smiled. "No. Mind if I punch you in the stomach?"

"Er, maybe I'll unpack these myself." Chandler walked past her, put the plates she had unpacked into a cupboard.

Ross was poking his head into the bedroom. "So who's your roommate?"

"Guy named Kip. Met him at one of those roommate matching services. He's some sort of medical technician. Don't know a lot about him, really."

"When's he get off work?" Monica found herself asking.

"Let me check his schedule." Chandler reached into a box, pulled out a Magna Doodle. He lifted the plastic pen and tapped the surface of the Magna Doodle a few times, then stared thoughtfully at the dots he had created. "Hmm, says here anytime between five and midnight."

Monica felt something between amusement and irritation at these antics. "Well, when he comes back, bring him over for dinner, I'll make something. Will you stay, Ross?"

Ross shrugged. "Let me check with Carol, but sure."

"Great." Monica walked back towards her apartment, already debating menu items. "Just let me know."

"Thank you for the cookies, Monica."

She turned her head over her shoulder. Chandler was smiling, and idly she noted that he really didn't look half-bad like that. "You're welcome. You should wash those plates before you use them, you know."

"Are you kidding? I don't even wash them after I use them."

Ugh. "I'll plan on serving at six, let me know if it will be later."

Monica stepped across the hall and into her apartment. Already the anticipation was growing. She loved making food for people, and she was greatly looking forward to seeing Kip again. The evening promised to be interesting.

Monica opened the refrigerator and began to gather the ingredients.

(to be continued)