A/N: Moving right along these days, aren't I?
Chapter 8:
Circumstantial Evidence
Rachel hauled her bags up the stairs and was not at all surprised to discover that the door to apartment 20 was unlocked. As Chandler dropped his luggage across the hall, she stepped into her own home to discover Phoebe and Joey at the kitchen table, their faces close together, speaking in low tones. The seriousness evaporated immediately, however, the instant she entered the room. Despite Phoebe's warm welcome, Rachel had the distinct impression that she had interrupted an important conversation. She had no time to dwell on it, however, as she was quickly whisked into the living room; Phoebe wanted to hear all about the trip.
By the time five o'clock rolled around, Rachel was physically and mentally exhausted. Though still early, she had been awake for more than sixteen hours, and nearly half of that had been spent in the air, squeezed into an uncomfortably small seat that she thought could easily have doubled as a torture device. Joey had long since trudged across the hall for the evening, and Phoebe was hoisting herself up from the couch so that Chandler could help her downstairs and into a cab before he retired as well. Murmuring goodbyes, Rachel closed the door behind them and practically dragged herself and one of her bags into the bathroom to shower.
Fifteen minutes later, feeling only slightly better, she emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, clad in only a long-sleeved NYPD t-shirt. She trudged across the apartment to lock the door, turned off all of the lights and slowly made her way into her bedroom. Folding back the blankets on her bed, she slipped in between the sheets and, breathing a contented sigh, was asleep within minutes.
She awoke with a start sometime around 3 a.m., feeling certain that she'd heard a noise in the apartment. Soundlessly, she slid out of bed, threw on her robe and grasped the doorknob, heart pounding, arming herself with the baseball bat she kept hidden just inside the room. She turned the knob as silently as possible, opened the door only a crack and peered cautiously into the living room. The light from the open refrigerator illuminated the kitchen, and she discovered Joey quietly attempting to make himself a sandwich. She threw the door wide and jammed her hands onto her hips. "Joey Tribbiani, I'm going to kill you! You scared the shit out of me!"
Even through the darkness, she saw that she had startled him as well. "Sorry, Rach. . .I was hungry, and we don't have any food at our place. I was trying not to wake you up. . . ."
She propped her would-be weapon against the sofa and padded into the kitchen to close the refrigerator and turn on a light. Settling herself into one of the kitchen chairs, she demanded, "What the hell are you doing up at this time of night anyway?"
Joey went back to making his sandwich. "I couldn't sleep. It must be all the traveling." Completing his task, he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and seated himself across from her. He tucked into his late-night snack with gusto, moaning with contentment as he chewed. "I am so glad to be back home again. I mean, London was great and all, but the food over there really wasn't the same."
Rachel studied his face as he ate. Something wasn't right with him, she was sure of it. "Joey, sweetie, are you okay?"
He paused, mid-bite. "What do you mean?"
She pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. "You've seemed a little. . .down, all day. Is something bothering you?"
He swallowed his bite, took another, chewing methodically, taking a while to answer. Not quite meeting her eyes, he replied, "I'm fine, Rach. I. . .I guess I'm just tired."
Unconvinced, she debated whether or not to press the issue; She wasn't sure how he would react, or if he would even tell her the truth, if in fact something really was bothering him. Finally, she pushed aside her concerns and yawned widely. "Well, now that I know I'm not going to be murdered in my sleep, I'm going back to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
He nodded, mouth full of salami. "'Night, Rach."
***
Chandler opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling, still feeling groggy despite the fact that he'd slept more than twelve hours. The clock read 8:30, and his lower back was aching, so he rolled over and climbed out of bed. Rather astonished that he hadn't awoken sooner, he trudged into the empty living room, yawning. Caffeine. Now. He stuck his feet into his slippers and wandered across the hall. The door was unlocked, and he called Rachel's name as he let himself in. There was no answer; the shower was running. He helped himself to a cup of the waiting coffee and plunked down onto the sofa to watch television.
After a few minutes, the shower stopped, and he could hear Rachel humming cheerfully to herself as she rummaged around in the bathroom. When the door opened, he glanced over his shoulder to greet her, only to discover that she was wrapped in only a towel. Slightly startled by his presence, she jumped backwards into the bathroom and peeked around the doorjamb. "Is Joey with you?" she hissed.
He shook his head solemnly, unable to keep his gaze from sliding up and down her nearly naked body. She flushed slightly at his less-than-subtle ogling, and scolded, "If you expect us to make it through this week, you absolutely cannot look at me like that, Bing."
With difficulty, he turned back to the television. "Well, if you expect me not to look at you like that, you shouldn't be walking around half-naked, Green."
She huffed as she crossed to her bedroom. "Well, how was I supposed to know that you'd
be sitting in here when I came out?"
"I know," he quipped. "I'm never over
here." He smiled wryly at her
frustrated groan as she closed her bedroom door, at a loss as to how he would
manage to keep his hands off of her for the rest of the day, much less the
whole week. When she emerged
from the bedroom, his self-doubt increased ten-fold. She was dressed casually, in calf-length olive-colored Capri
pants and a clingy, beige t-shirt with three-quarter length sleeves. He groaned inwardly; everything about her
exuded sexiness to him now - even her tiny bare feet, toenails painted a deep
shade of red that accentuated her early-summer tan, jingly silver jewelry dangling
around her ankle. Her golden hair fell
straight down to the center of her back, and he yearned to tangle his hands in
it as he pulled her face down to his for a long, lingering kiss. Snap out of it, man. You'll never survive the week if you keep
thinking like this. He made a great
effort to keep his eyes on the television as she moved around the room, but if
anyone had asked, he wouldn't have even been able to say what he was
watching. Her voice saved him. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
He tore his mind away from torturous images of her wrapped in his sheets, calling his name, her eyes shimmering in the candlelight. "Sure, Rach, anything."
She plopped down beside him, sideways, resting her elbow on the back of the couch, propping her head up on her hand so she could look at him while she spoke. "Have you noticed anything. . .strange about the way Joey's been acting?"
Chandler set his steaming mug down on the coffee table and twisted on the sofa, mirroring her pose. He considered her question for only a minute before answering. "Yeah – I noticed it yesterday, especially. He's been acting really. . .I don't know. . .almost sad. What do you think's up with him?"
She shook her head slowly. "I'm really not sure. He actually woke me up last night – he didn't mean to – he was over here making a sandwich at like 3 a.m. I sat down with him for just a minute, asked him if he was okay. . .he said he was just tired, but I don't think he was being honest." She pursed her lips, thinking. "I may be way off base here, but I think whatever it is that's bothering him has to do with Monica."
Chandler started, clearly taken entirely off guard by the comment. "What? Why would you think that?"
Rachel debated for only a second. "OK, I have a confession to make."
He turned his head slightly, eyeing her suspiciously. "What kind of confession?"
She flushed. "It's nothing major. It's just…the first morning in London, when Joey came in, and you guys were talking? Well, I was. . .I wasn't exactly asleep. I kind of – well, I kind of heard everything you guys said. I'm really sorry. . .I didn't mean to eavesdrop, well, not exactly, anyway - "
Chandler gaped at her, wide-eyed. "So you heard me. . . ."
She nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "'Asexual', I believe that was the term you used."
He swallowed, unsure whether he should be angry or apologetic. He didn't feel particularly angry, so he opted for an apology. "Look, Rach, I only said those things to Joey because I was staring at you when he walked in, thinking about how incredibly hot you are, and how incredibly inappropriate it was for me to be thinking that. Clearly, I don't really think you're 'asexual'. I think you're the exact opposite of 'asexual'. In fact, I think you're probably the most sexual, most beautiful, most mind-bogglingly gorgeous woman I've ever – "
"Stop, Chandler. Just stop. If you keep talking like that, we're gonna end up in there," she jerked her head toward her bedroom, "and I think we already agreed that – unfortunately – we're not going to be doing that, at least for the time being." She half-smiled at him. "It's OK, by the way. I'm not upset. It's not like we had any idea that morning what was going to happen with us."
He nodded, still contrite. Clearing his throat, he pressed on. "So, ah. . .what does any of this have to do with Joey?"
She pulled both of her legs up to her chest. "Well, that morning, I heard Joey say that he'd stayed in our room. Right?"
Chandler combed his memory for a moment. "Yes. Right. He did say that."
"Right. So when I got over to my room, I noticed right away that no one had slept in my bed. It hadn't been touched."
"That's really weird."
"That's what I thought."
Chandler seemed deep in thought. "But. . .what if Joey didn't actually stay over there?"
"Well, I thought that, too. But why would he have said that he did, if he didn't?"
"Good question."
"Anyway, that's not all." At Chandler's interested look, she continued. "Remember, when you and I were, ah…in your room, after the rehearsal? And Monica knocked on the door?"
Chandler grimaced. "Hell yes. How could I forget?"
"Almost the first words out of her mouth were, 'Is Joey here?' Remember?"
He nodded again, increasingly fascinated. "Go on."
"Well, later that night, after I tried to get Monica to talk to me, and she got pissed off and left the room? Later, when I started to come over to see you, I heard them talking down the hall. I went straight back into the room and climbed straight back into bed, thinking that Monica would be back any second. But she wasn't. In fact, I laid there in the dark for nearly half an hour before I fell asleep, and she never showed up."
He leaned forward, intrigued. "What time was that?"
"I don't know. . .maybe 12:30, 1:00? It was late."
"OK, that night? I couldn't sleep, either. I was up half the night, in fact. Joey didn't come back to the room until almost 4 a.m. And he was gone before I woke up."
"Monica, too. I just assumed she had gone to help get things ready for the wedding."
"And I thought Joey had gone to breakfast."
"And then, yesterday, on the plane. . .we were talking about Monica going to Greece, with Ross, and Joey got all quiet, said something sarcastic. And then last night. . .he was definitely not himself. I don't know what it is, but something is definitely up."
Chandler sat back, his mind reeling. "You know, all of this, as convincing as it is, it's all circumstantial. We don't have any proof that anything is going on with them. I mean, you and I slept in the same bed that first night, and we didn't do anything."
"True."
"And maybe, the night of the rehearsal, you know. . .she was really drunk. She wasn't making any sense anyway. She could have just been looking for anyone to hook up with – make her feel better. Hell, she might have slept with me, as much as she'd had to drink. You know?"
Rachel looked dubious, but had to admit he had a point. "Also true."
"And as far as them both staying out half the night. . .well, maybe she ran into Joey in the hotel, and she was upset, and he, being the nice guy he is, hung out with her for a while, just trying to cheer her up."
"I suppose that's possible. . . ."
"But. . . ." Chandler ran his fingers through his hair, rumpling it.
"But. . . ?" She pretended not to notice how cute he looked, still a little sleepy-eyed.
"Well, in light of the fact that he's been acting funny, and all these strange coincidences. . . ."
"You call them coincidences, I call them evidence. I think they slept together. The only question in my mind is, how serious is it?" She wrinkled her forehead, staring across the room and out the window, not really focusing on anything in particular.
"You know, you look really adorable when you're being all nosy about other peoples' sex lives."
She glared at him, then attacked; pinning him to the couch with her knees, she went after his ribs, trying to find the most ticklish spot possible. He squirmed in protest, then grabbed both of her wrists with his left hand and pushed her onto her back, claiming control of the situation. She squealed an objection, but he was far stronger. Overpowering her, he held her hands captive above her head and took his time planning his counterattack.
"No. . . ." she begged, breathless. "Please. . . ."
"Oh, Rach, I love it when you beg. . . ." he rasped, teasing her. She flushed, then resumed her struggles, although only half-heartedly. He walked up her stomach with his index and middle finger, poised for a strike, then zeroed in on her midsection. She gasped, dissolving into uncontrollable giggles. Her wriggling caught him off balance, and he landed unceremoniously on top of her, her eyes mere inches from his own. He stared, transfixed, as her lips parted, her breathing heavy from the friendly wrestling match. He was hypnotized; he knew he couldn't pull away, even if he'd wanted to, which he most certainly did not. He loosened his grip on her wrists, felt his hand sliding down her arm to her shoulder, cupped it gently, while his other hand moved, completely of its own volition, to stroke her glowing cheek.
A tiny sigh escaped her lips, and he was lost. He grazed her mouth with his own, softly, barely making contact, and was amazed at the extreme acceleration of his heart at such a seemingly insignificant touch. He felt a tremor go through her body, heard a soft sound of pleasure that reverberated against him. He dragged his teeth across her bottom lip and she sighed again, murmuring his name, the tender, melodious sound nearly pushing him over the edge. Unable to resist any longer, he captured her mouth with his own, delving into her softness with his tongue, exploring her, savoring the feeling of intense desire that only she seemed capable of arousing. He still hadn't grown accustomed to the force of the passion she ignited within him; moreover, he knew, somehow, that he never really would. The feeling was too strong, too potent, to ever be taken for granted.
His eyes fluttered closed, and he slid his arm beneath her neck, pulling her as close to him as possible. He kissed his way across her cheek, settled on her earlobe for a second, then drifted down the side of her neck, eliciting a small inhalation of delight from Rachel. He had just approached her collarbone when the door to the apartment burst open and Joey sauntered in, yawning.
He sat up quickly, arranging his face into a semi-serious expression, and wrapped both hands around her face, prying her mouth open. "Well whaddya know, Rachel? You're right - you do appear to have two extra teeth on top!"
She stared up at him, panic evident on her face. "You see?! I told you!!"
Joey merely shot a confused look in their direction and turned to the coffee pot. Chandler stood up, giving Rachel an opportunity to straighten her clothes. She did so, then swung her feet to the floor and hurried into the kitchen, wrenching open the refrigerator. "Who wants breakfast? I'm starved!"
Joey frowned. "What are you talking about, Rach? You can't cook. You know that."
"Oh, well, of course, I know that. . .I was just getting a. . ." she scanned the contents of the fridge quickly. ". . .a glass of juice, that's all. Of course, I meant, does anyone want to go get some breakfast? Obviously."
Chandler clapped his hands with exaggerated excitement. "Breakfast sounds great. I'll, uh, I'll just go get changed."
Joey sat down at the table, coffee in hand. "You guys are weird this morning."
***
