Hi loves!
So this was one (of MANY, MANY too many...) stories that are sitting on my computer not finished, and I got a spark in me last week sometime to finish it. I wrote the last chapter many moons ago with no intention to continue the story, but this one fit will with it, so I'm just going to add it to it and make another standalone one shot multiple chapter story out of it. I have a couple of other ideas that could go on here too.
Anyway, I planned to get this out over the weekend, but of course that didn't happen, and I told myself Monday I'd post, and nope...then came Tuesday anddd I fell asleep on my computer trying to edit it.
My friends, I need about 10 more hours in the day. LOL.
I am working on WATC too, but homework unfortunately is taking so much of my time, so it is coming along slowly. I'm so sorry! I'll get it out eventually, thank you for being patient with me.
This is set S3 Ep 9 "TOW The Football", but I changed some things around to benefit Mondler. Oh, of course I did.
Alright, enough of my rambling and I need to get up and get ready for work.
Much love!
"Wait, so if nobody tackled Rachel, doesn't that mean the play is still going?"
The six friends looked at each other, then each dove for the leather football all at once. Phoebe, Rachel, and Joey all stood up, furrowing their brows together at the other three that lay on the ground and now wrestled over the football.
"Let go!" Monica yelled and pulled the ball towards her and away from Chandler, who lay next to her, his shoulder touching hers.
"No, you let go!" Chandler responded.
"Guys, does it really matter?" Rachel asked.
"Yes!" The three of them yelled back at once, making Rachel move back just a little.
Rachel rolled her eyes and put her hands up, then stepped back next to Joey and Phoebe, who watched the scene in front of them in awe.
Ross didn't have a great angle on the ball, so he let go, stood up and pat Chandler on his shoulder, "Come on man, don't let go! You can beat her!"
"I'm not letting go," Chandler said, gripping the ball tighter, which, in turn, made Monica grip it tighter.
She narrowed her eyes at him, "Well, I'm not letting go either," she said through her teeth.
Joey groaned, "Guys, come on, it's Thanksgiving! I want to go eat a nice dinner!"
"Go eat if you want!" Monica said and pulled on the ball.
"What about you guys?" Phoebe asked.
Monica looked over at Chandler, "We'll be up in a second, just as soon as Chandler releases the football."
"Guess we're going hungry then," he responded quickly, which made Monica narrow her eyes at him again.
"Well, great, it's starting to snow!" Rachel said, and crossed her arms over her chest, "I'm not staying out here in this weather to watch you two fight over a football." And with that, she turned on her heel and walked quickly away from the group.
"Rachel's right," Phoebe said, then stepped closer to them, "you're both going to catch pneumonia out here."
"I've got a good immune system," Chandler said lowly, smirking at Monica.
She rolled her eyes, "I promise it's not as good as mine, Bing."
"I'm going inside," Phoebe said, then turned and walked away too.
Ross and Joey now stood behind them, watching in silence as the duo on the ground pulled the ball back and forth.
"Come on, Chandler. We've got to win that trophy!" Ross said in his competitive voice.
Joey rolled his eyes, "I'm going to eat," he said and joined the march of Phoebe and Rachel before him.
"The trophy is staying right where it has belonged, with me all these years," Monica replied, ignoring Joey.
"Doubtful, Geller," Chandler murmured.
The two pulled the ball back and forth more, Ross the only audience left.
About 20 minutes passed and Ross still stood behind them, cheering Chandler on. But it wasn't doing any good. Monica hadn't budged, but to be fair, Chandler hadn't either.
"Monica, come on, give it up, because my buddy Chandler isn't going to, right Chandler?"
"Nope, I want that stupid troll nailed to the two by four, Ross. And I'm going to win it." He grinned at Monica with his teeth clenched.
Ross grabbed Chandler's right shoulder and squeezed it, "You got this, man," he encouraged, then sighed, "it is cold, though, and I've kind of got to use the restroom," he said, adopting that whiny tone that drove Chandler crazy most of the time.
Chandler rolled his eyes in response, "Go, Ross. I've got this. Your sister isn't going to win."
"Oh, you still think that, huh?" She challenged.
"Oh yeah," he responded.
"I can lay out here all night, Bing," she said, moving her face closer to his, "we'll be buried in snow before I get up from this spot without this football."
"Well, I guess we'll die in this spot."
"I guess we will," she answered.
Ross grinned at Chandler's persistence, "Since you've got this under control, I'm going inside. Go Chandler, go!"
The only two people left in the park now stayed silent as Ross walked away.
The air was only getting colder, the amount of the snow falling slightly quicker now. He turned to her, a smirk on his face, "Damn, Geller, I knew you were competitive, but I didn't realize you were lay-out-on-the-ground-and-in-the-snow competitive."
She grinned at him and sniffed, "Well I am. And you and my brother think you can beat me, and that just pushes me on to beat both of you more."
"I can't feel my fingers, but I promise you, I can still hold on to this ball."
"Not as long as I can," Monica responded.
The two of them tugged on the ball back and forth a few times before they fell still and quiet for a long time, how much time, neither of them knew.
"Alright, something's got to give here," Chandler said finally. He now had trouble feeling his toes through his tennis shoes and he knew they both would be turning blue soon.
"Why don't you give up, then," Monica suggested.
"No, why don't you give up?" He asked.
"This just proves that you don't know me at all," she said, chuckling slightly.
"I do know you," he promised.
"Not if you think I'm just going to give up because it's a little chilly out here."
He sighed and moved just a little closer to her, "Maybe we can make some sort of deal," he suggested lowly.
"What deal? That you let go of the ball and I win?"
He smirked at her and pulled on the ball, but she didn't let go, of course.
"Maybe you would let go if I offered you some nice green stuff," he lifted his eyebrows suggestively.
She furrowed her eyebrows together, "What? Plants? I'm not a gardener."
"I meant money," he said, after he rolled his eyes at her.
"Um, no." She answered quickly.
"Fifty dollars," he offered.
"Nope," she said and shook her head.
"One hundred dollars," he said, his eyebrows raised.
"Nope," she said again, this time sharper.
"Okay, well, that stupid trophy isn't worth much more than that," he rolled his eyes again and sighed, pulling on the ball. He looked up at the sky, "At least it stopped snowing, so maybe we won't die of frostbite."
"Guess we won't be buried in the snow either," she remarked.
He turned to her, a smirk on his face, "Damn, I was hoping we'd have to rely on each other's body heat to survive."
She smirked back at him, "Well it seems like someone is over the Janice breakup."
He scoffed and pulled on the football, "Well, yeah. Another relationship bites the dust, I guess. Don't forget, you're fighting over a football with Mr. Snake Man."
She tilted her head, "Chandler, stop it. You'll find somebody," she promised softly, her protective friend side overpowering her competitive side for the moment.
"You girls keep telling me that and it keeps being not true, so I don't know why you think I will." He shrugged.
If she didn't have to continuously hold the football, she would've cupped his face, "Because we know you. We know you're a sweet, handsome, kind, smart, funny, hardworking guy and the right person will be lucky to get you."
He met her eyes, a small smile on his face. It didn't matter if he was feeling down on himself or if she was feeling down on herself, they always made each other feel better, always. "Thanks Mon," he said softly, then leaned towards her, "you think I'm handsome, huh?" He just had to add.
She rolled her eyes, "Oh, God, shut up Bing. Don't make me be nice to you and then kick your ass in the same few minutes," she replied, even as a blush came to her cheeks.
"If you beat me up, are you going to let me have the football?"
She pulled on it to make a point, "No. I can do it with my legs."
He lifted an eyebrow, "Do what with your legs?"
She chuckled, "Beat you up."
Now both of his eyebrows went towards the sky, and he moved his head to look down her body towards the said legs, "You're telling me that you're flexible enough to, quote, beat me up using just your legs while holding a football and not letting go?"
She smirked at him and nodded, "That's what I'm telling you."
He chuckled, "Well go ahead. I'll take the beating just so I can see that in action."
She rolled her eyes again, but smiled, "Wouldn't want to hurt you."
"I just don't think you can do it anyway," he responded.
"You should know better by now than to challenge me on something," she volleyed back.
"But, like I said, this is something I've gotta see," he answered, "this is me officially challenging you, so let's go."
"How about instead of that, let's talk about what I can offer you to make you let go of this football," she said to him.
He chuckled lowly in his throat, and let his mind draw up a mental image of what her legs could do instead. "Um, that would be nothing."
Monica thought for a second, the smiled at him, "I'll make you your favorite dinner," she said sweetly.
He smirked at her, but shook his head, "Everything you make is my favorite," he responded, "no."
She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, but felt heat come to her face again. Since when did he make her blush so much?
She didn't know, but she loved it when anybody complimented her cooking. For some reason, though, it meant more to her when Chandler did it. He did way back in 1987 when she made him Mac-and-cheese for dinner, so she assumed that was why it still thrilled her to hear him say he liked anything she made.
"Out of ideas, then?" He said when she stalled, a smirk back on his face.
"No, I've got plenty," she retorted. She sighed as she thought for a second, "Okay, how about…" she grinned widely, "Oh! I'll give you a massage!"
He lifted his eyebrows and confused her when he began to laugh, "I've heard horror stories about your massage abilities, Mon. So that's a hard no." He laughed more, but she didn't.
"What are you talking about?"
"Phoebe and Rachel have warned me," he said, shrugging a shoulder.
"They like my massages!"
He tried to hold his laughter in, but in true Chandler fashion, failed spectacularly and laughed anyway, "Oh, sweetheart, they don't."
She scoffed at him, "Whatever." She had some serious bone picking planned to do with her roommates, both former and current, when she got back to the apartment.
She rolled her eyes and sighed, racking her brain for any sort of compromise she could offer him.
Then it hit her. The surefire way to get him to cave.
Monica pulled on the ball just to see if he was ready to give up yet, but he pulled on it again. She sighed and moved even closer to him. She enjoyed the little bit of body heat his body suddenly provided, and only cemented the fact that her idea was a good one.
It was time to bring out the big guns.
He looked at her, then lifted his eyebrows at how close her face was to his now, "What are you doing?" He asked.
"I think I've come up with a compromise," she said lowly.
He chuckled once, "Well, let's hear it," he said, adopting that deeper flirty-like tone he sometimes used with her.
"If you let go, I'll kiss you," she said softly, as if there was someone else listening to them.
He lost his playful grin at her, then backed his head up a bit, "What?"
She smiled at his reaction, "If you let me win, I'll kiss you." She repeated, although she felt like she probably didn't need to. He heard her the first time.
He licked his lips and glanced down at her mouth before he met her eyes again. He smirked at her then, though, and surprised her when he answered her, "Hmm, no." He said, shaking his head.
"What?" She said, both shocked and a little heartbroken at the same time.
"If I let you win, your brother will irritate the hell out of me. And I can't take all that whining for a quick peck on the lips, as much as I would enjoy such things. It's not a good enough compromise, I'm sorry."
She moved in a little closer, "I didn't say it would be a quick peck on the lips." She said, and he thought the slow smile that spread across her face was adorable.
He licked his lips at the thought, the cleared his throat, "So, what kind of kiss are you talking about then?"
She tilted her head just a little, "I was thinking of more of a make-out type kiss."
"So you're telling me if I let you win that damn troll nailed to a board, that I'll get to make out with you?"
"Yes," she confirmed.
He narrowed his eyes a bit at her again, "For how long?"
"Thirty seconds?"
He pressed his lips together, then shook his head, "Not good enough."
"You've obviously never kissed me before," she responded, smirking at him.
He chuckled at that, "No, I haven't, but remember the whining? I'm going to have to hear it all night and probably all day tomorrow. Thirty seconds of kissing would just not make up for it."
She rolled her eyes, but knew he had a point. Her brother would torture him and anyone else that was in earshot. "Fine, a minute?"
He looked up for a second, pondering her offer, but again, shook his head.
"I just don't know…" he pretended to think about it, looking away from her and acting as if would tell her no. There was no way in hell. "Fine, Bing, three minutes. That is my final offer."
Chandler studied her for a few seconds, wondering if he could get her to add more time if he told her no again. But she did say it was her final offer, so he decided not to push his luck.
"Well?" She prompted before he said anything.
He nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed, as he tried to read her to make sure they were on the same page. "I'm just going to need the fine print of this offer to be explained, so just bear with me, okay?" She groaned softly, but nodded anyway, "If I let you win, then you're going to make out with me for three minutes?"
"Yes," she answered.
"And, just for clarification, you know making out includes tongue, right?"
"It won't be the first time I've made out with someone, so yes, I knew that" she pointed out.
He looked down at her lips, then back into her gorgeous blue eyes, "And I'm talking tongue throughout, not just in the last few seconds."
She smirked at him, pressed her lips together, then leaned slightly closer, "You can have all the tongue you want," she said lowly, and he could tell she was trying to fight a smile.
He looked away from her and as a chill ran through his entire body and he felt his groin tighten. "God don't say things like that," he murmured. She grinned at him again. She knew she'd win this one.
"So, do we have a deal?"
"One more question," he said, smiling at her.
She sighed and tightened her grip on the football, "Okay, ask it."
He leaned forward, so close that she could smell a mix of his faded cologne, dirt, and him. She bit her bottom lip with anticipation.
"What else can I kiss?" He had a smile on his face, "Other than your mouth, I mean."
A shiver ran through her again, and she smiled at him and chuckled softly, hoping that her face still displayed teasing and not want. The comment was his way of getting her back for the 'all the tongue you want' comment, and she knew that, but she loved the idea of him wanting to kiss other places on her body, and that made tingles fire low in her belly.
"Shut up," she said again, and bumped her shoulder against his, "so do we have a deal, or not?"
He laughed once at that, "Monica, I've done some pretty incredibly stupid things in my life but saying no to making out with one of the most beautiful, hottest women I know would definitely take the cake."
She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, "So, that's a deal, then," if he noticed the shake in her voice, he didn't say anything, to which she was appreciative.
"It's a deal," he said, and moved his head closer to hers again.
"So let go," she said softly, her fingers grazing his on the leather ball.
He smirked at her, "Wait, you're not going to Charlie Brown me out of this football, are you?"
"What?" She asked, confused.
"You know, in Charlie Brown, when Lucy plays football with Charlie?" She smiled as he continued, "She has the football all ready for him to kick and just before his foot connects, she moves it and he's flat on his back."
"I'm not going to do that to you," she promised softly.
"Yeah well, I've got some trust issues," he responded.
She furrowed her eyebrows at him, "Even with me?"
He looked down at her lips, "Well, not really you per se," he met her eyes again, "but I've been screwed over enough times by women that I have a hard time believing what I'm told."
"Chandler," she moved her face even closer to his, "I wouldn't do that to you," she said again.
"Yeah?" He questioned, a smile on his face.
Her smile grew too, "Are you going to let go?" She asked, her voice low.
"Just as soon as those perfect pink lips of yours touch mine," he answered.
"Fine," she murmured, then finally leaned forward the few inches between them and pressed her lips to his. She let them linger there for few seconds and had the intention to pull away and go in again, but his hands finally left the football and cupped her face, holding it against his lips.
The fight over the football was suddenly forgotten as she let go too and leaned her body all the way against his. She put her hands on each side of his neck and used her lips to open his.
He smiled and ran one of his hands down her side. She pulled back a half an inch, "What are you smiling at, Bing?" She teased.
"My three minutes start now," he murmured.
Her answer to that was to press her lips against his again and plunge her tongue into his mouth. He was surprised at first but tightened his grip on her side and pushed her back just a little as his tongue dueled with hers.
She moaned and it thrilled him to no end. He moved his hand back up her body and into her hair, threading his fingers through her messy updo.
God, she'd never been kissed like this before. He was damn good at it, she had to give it to him. Whether or not she would ever admit that to him, she didn't know.
Another moan formed in the back of her throat, and she suddenly found herself flat on her back as his mouth devoured hers. She moved her hands to his back and pulled him closer.
The warmth that spread through his entire body only urged him on, his head turning and moving back and forth so that he could continue to taste every single part of her wonderful mouth. He felt her leg wrap around his, and he took that as a sign that she was completely fine with what they were doing right now.
He groaned when one of her freezing cold hands touched the warmer skin under his sweatshirt at his waist, but only flicked his tongue against hers deliciously as a response.
To get a little payback, though, he moved one of his hands from her hair and slid it down her body, then rested it just beneath the hem of her shirt.
That wasn't the agreement, but the way this was going, as passionately as she was kissing him back, he felt as if he could get away with it. He turned his head again to continue the kiss at a different angle and moved his hand up just a bit more.
She whimpered into the kiss and he pulled back, afraid that he'd taken it too far.
He moved his hand quickly and looked down at her as both tried to catch their breath, "Sorry," he said shyly, and looked down at her swollen, red, thoroughly kissed lips. He already missed them.
"What are you sorry for?" She asked as she looked down at his lips too, then back up into his eyes. She tightened her grip on his back, not letting him move too far away from her.
He grinned, "Well, uh," he chuckled once, "my hands got a little travel happy there."
"So?" She bit her bottom lip as she tried to fight a smile, but failed. She chuckled at him, the look on his face as he hovered above her priceless.
He smiled back and leaned down closer to her, "You're a tease, Geller," he murmured lowly. He lifted a hand and moved some of her hair away from her eyes, "I might've kept going with my travel happy hands if we weren't in such a public place."
"I don't see anyone around," she remarked, and bit her bottom lip as a shocked expression took over his face, "Touch me if you want to, Chandler," she added softly.
He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to find any tiny speck of teasing, but found none. He swallowed hard, "I uh," he started, then chuckled nervously, "you shouldn't say things like that to me unless…"
She leaned up on her elbows, "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it, Bing," she whispered. And anyway, she'd hate to deprive him of touching her, because she was sure she'd enjoy it too. Those long fingers of his sure looked like they could induce pleasure.
He leaned onto her again and kissed her, the knowledge that she just told him that he could basically touch her how he wanted made him so dizzy and his pants a little tighter.
He slipped his hand beneath her sweatshirt again, and because she didn't pull away from the kiss, he slid it upward and cupped her breast through the fabric of her sports bra. She moaned when he pressed her nipple with his thumb, but then the moment was completely shattered when another voice was heard above them, the light from the flashlight much brighter than the streetlamp that was there before hurting their eyes.
"Hey! What do you two think you're doing out here? The park closed at eight o'clock!"
Chandler quickly moved his hand from beneath her sweatshirt and sat up onto his butt, then looked up at the uniformed man, "Uh, no-" he had to breathe a couple of times to catch his breath, "nothing, officer, we um," he cleared his throat, "we were just playing some football with our friends and…"
"It doesn't look like you were playing football to me," the stranger interrupted, "more like tonsil hockey."
Chandler looked over at Monica, and she looked back at him. He could tell she was trying to fight a smile.
"And if I didn't stop you, I'm sure I would have to arrest you both for indecent exposure," he pointed out, "you can't do that out here in an open park."
Chandler looked over at his best friend again, searching for the look of denial from what the lawman insinuated. But he found no such look.
They would've stopped before having sex, though, surely.
Wouldn't they?
She broke the stare between them and looked up at the man standing in front of them, "We're sorry, sir."
"Just take it inside, would ya?" He said with the wave of a hand, then stared at them for another second before he shook his head and walked away.
Chandler and Monica looked at each other again, both trying to keep the smile off their faces, but it didn't last too long as they both burst into laughter, "Well, that was fun while it lasted," he finally remarked, and Monica nodded in agreement.
He still chuckled as he got to his feet, then held out his hands to help Monica stand too. She placed her smaller hands in his and pulled herself up, leaving very little room between them.
He smirked at her and raised his hand to brush a piece of hair from her forehead, "I find it hard to believe that we just made out on the ground in the middle of the park."
She chuckled, "It just shows our dedication to win the game," she said, then shrugged her shoulder.
He looked down at her lips, and she looked down at his, and good God, he wanted to taste them again.
But he didn't think it was the best idea, so he sighed and stepped backward, "We should probably get back," he said softly.
She swallowed and wondered what the hell she was thinking, hoping he'd kiss her again.
"Yeah," she agreed, then smiled and bent over and picked up the football, "let's head upstairs.
She felt a tingle run up and down her spine when he placed his hand on the small of her back and walked with her across the street and into their apartment building.
His plans to see if he could sneak another kiss in the stairwell were diminished as soon as they began to ascend the stairs and found Ross on the way down.
"There you are!" Ross said, then looked down at the football in Monica's hand, "Oh man! Monica won?"
Chandler and Monica glanced at each other, then turned back to the paleontologist. Chandler rubbed his nose and sniffed, "Yeah, she did."
He hoped that Ross couldn't hear the fact that he wasn't even disappointed in the result of the football war. As far as he was concerned, he won.
"I can't believe you let a woman beat you, weakling."
He lifted his eyebrows at Ross, then pointed at Monica, "Hey, she is freakishly strong." He let his mind drift for a second, hoping he'd get to feel the muscles in her arms, and back, and legs, and chest…
"Ross, you of all people know I'm strong," Monica cut in, then bumped Chandler's arm with her shoulder, "and he had to sneeze, that's why I won."
Chandler was impressed with her ability to come up with such a perfect excuse so quickly and was relieved that she understood that they should keep their kissing deal between them. Their friends would only ask a thousand questions and pester them about what it meant.
Although, he had some questions himself, and he wondered if she did too.
"Can't help it if I have to sneeze," Chandler replied, "and she won, fair and square. So, you'll need to pass that most invaluable trophy over to your sister."
Ross groaned and rolled his eyes, "I should've stayed and fought for it myself."
"Ah, don't take it too hard, bro," Monica said, chuckling a little, "I knew I'd win. And besides, you guys got second place, and that's not too bad."
Chandler couldn't help but smile, so he lifted his hand and scratched his upper lip to hide it while Ross threw up his hands, then let them fall to his side in defeat.
Monica grinned at him, then looked over at her big brother. She pressed the football into his chest and pat his arm, "I'm going to have dinner and enjoy my trophy."
With another smile, she stepped behind Ross, turned, and looked at Chandler, then winked at him.
As Ross rambled on about a story from when he and Monica were kids, he stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled back at her.
Yeah, she won the troll nailed to a two-by-four.
But he won too.
