Good morning/afternoon/evening loves!
So this another one of those that have been sitting on my computer, waiting around forever for me to finish it.
But it's not *finished* because I've decided that I'll write more of it. But the rest of the story will be RATED M. So again, if you're not into that, this is probably the only chapter you'll want to read of this one.
This kind of story has probably been done before (I imagine several times), but I always have this on my mind when I watch their disaster of a wedding with Chandler running away (eye roll) and then not getting a first dance (mega eye roll) or anything newlywed related. I've been to my share of weddings, and I think Chandler's and Monica's could have been SO much better and SO much more about THEM.
Anyway, sorry, I'm ranting. So this takes place on their wedding night, after the reception. Keep an eye out for sexy chapters that will follow.
I hope you enjoy! Much love!
Chandler Bing held the hotel room door open for Monica, watching as she walked in without saying a word to him. In fact, she had hardly said anything to him all night long.
He sighed and slipped the hotel key card back in one of the card slots of his wallet, then returned the wallet to his pants pocket. He lifted his head and looked around the giant room, admiring its spacious beauty, dimmed lights, and romantic setting, then turned around and let his eyes land on his wife.
She had sat down on the small bench in front of the king size bed that had rose petals all over the comforter. Over on the table with four chairs surrounding it was a hotel provided basket full of treats and a big bottle of champagne on ice with two glasses waiting beside it.
She didn't seem interested in any of it.
He watched her as she lifted one leg to take her high heeled shoe off, then the other.
That was supposed to be his job tonight. He was supposed to undress her.
He stepped a few steps toward her and lifted a hand to loosen his tie, then took in a deep breath and stepped closer to her, "Monica," he started, but she interrupted him, her voice shaky, but sharp.
"Don't," she said, holding up her hand, "just, don't say anything, okay?"
He swallowed thickly, then shook his head, at a loss for words. She looked up at him, tears pooled in her eyes, one of them sliding down her face as she stared up at him.
His heart was breaking into a million pieces. This was supposed to be one of the best nights of their married lives, and right now, he wished he could be anywhere but here.
"You're upset because of what Joey said, right?" He finally broke the silence, then stepped one more step closer to her.
She lifted her hand, her engagement ring and brand-new wedding band beneath it shining as she wiped the tear away, "How could I not be upset?" She began, shaking her head at him, "I guess you thought I was just going to let it go?"
"Well, no, but I…"
"Because you kissed me before you were supposed to? It doesn't change the fact that you were going to break my heart into a million pieces and leave me."
"I know, but…"
"Stop," she commanded again, "you were going to leave me standing at the altar on our wedding day?" He sighed, let his head drop, then put his hand on the back of his neck, "I can't believe you would do that to me," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
He pulled out one of the chairs from the table and sat down on it, then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, "I-I wouldn't have left you at the altar," he finally said slowly, "I just…"
"But you did," she said sharply, "you took off, and you hid all day, away from me, away from Ross, so you could run away and not marry me."
"Mon…"
"You were really okay with leaving me here? In my wedding dress, ready to marry the guy I thought was the love of my life, with all our family and friends here, you were just going to say, 'fuck it' and leave me? After everything we've built together?"
"No, I…"
"I'm so heartbroken, Chandler," she interrupted, People kept coming up to me and asking me if I was happy to be married to you, finally, and all I could say back to them was 'thank you for coming,' because I honestly don't know," she swallowed hard, "I don't know if we should have done this."
He shut his eyes as the pain from her words shot through him, making him shiver, "Do I want to stay married to a man who doesn't want to be married to me? How is that fair?" She asked, her voice breaking, "When we were up there, when I said, 'unless you don't want to', you should've stopped it then."
She wiped another tear away, "I just…" she swallowed hard, "I don't know what we're supposed to do now. Pretend to be this happily married couple to our friends and then at night avoid each other like the plague?"
"What? No…"
"Or do we file for divorce?"
The panic in his eyes when he looked up at her made her look away from him.
"No," he said quickly, but she continued without letting him say anything.
"I don't understand. If you didn't want this, if you didn't want to marry me, then why did you ask? Was it just so I wouldn't leave you?"
"Can I…"
"You only came back and married me because you thought I was pregnant," she said, "not because you love me, or you really wanted to marry me, but because you felt like you had to.
He shook his head then, "That's not true at all," he said, lifting and dropping his eyebrows.
"Then what the fuck is the truth, Chandler?!" She almost screamed, her frustration, broken heart, and anger at him spewing all at once. He lifted his head and looked at her, mostly because she rarely raised her voice at him, or anybody for that matter.
"Mon…" he tried again, but she cut him off.
"Damn it, you left me, Chandler! You didn't want this, and instead of telling me a month ago, or at Christmas, or at Thanksgiving, or any time over the last year that we've been engaged, you were going to leave me standing there, wondering where you were!"
She lifted her hand to cover her mouth, then shook her head again in disbelief. She dropped her hand and stared at him, "Goddamn it, this is not the kind of screaming I thought I'd be doing on my wedding night," she whispered, her throat now sore from crying and yelling.
He slowly stood from the chair and returned it to its place, then walked to the padded bench she was sitting on. He sat down next to her, then took her hands. He was surprised when she didn't pull them away.
"Listen to me, please," he started softly, then looked down at their hands.
He sighed and looked right into her tear-filled eyes, "I don't want you to ever think for a second that I have stopped or could ever stop loving you," he said, shaking his head, "I haven't, not for a second, and I never could."
Another tear rolled down her face, but she didn't care anymore. Both of their hands were occupied anyway, and she couldn't wipe it away.
"All my life, all I have ever seen with marriages is failure. My parents, and then my mother's marriages afterward, hell, even your own brother," he chuckled once, then shook his head. "I have never witnessed a successful, happy marriage. It has always been fighting, and arguing, and yelling and hatred."
She only stared as a response, "I was stupid," he continued, then swallowed hard, "I heard your message on our answering machine, and I thought, 'what am I doing? I can't marry her. I can't be a good husband to her and then lose the best thing in my life,'" he shook his head again, almost as if he was struggling to hold himself together.
"After dinner, I just got to a point where all I thought about was how I was, eventually, going to lose you, and I couldn't take it anymore," he swallowed hard, "so I got out of there, out of the apartment and just started walking, and walking, and walking. I'm not even sure how I ended up at my office."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I took off," he started, "but it wasn't because I didn't love you, or because I didn't want to marry you. But because I thought I couldn't. I thought I shouldn't ruin your life" he lifted his eyes to hers, "I had it in my mind that I could never be the guy…" he licked his lips, "…husband that you deserve, and for a brief time, I thought you would be better off without me."
She shook her head as tears continued to stream down her face, "But you only went through with it because you thought I was pregnant, right?"
He quickly shook his head, "No, not at all."
She let go of his hands and stood from the bench. After she wiped her face, she crossed her arms and turned back to face him, "Please don't lie to me now," she said, her voice broken and full of emotion, "the least you can do for me is tell me the truth."
He stood too and moved so that he was standing right in front of her, "I am telling you the truth," he insisted, "I was dressed and ready to marry you when I heard Phoebe say you were pregnant."
He looked down at the floor, then back up at her, "A tiny part of me freaked out for a second, but then I thought of you and how excited you probably were and the fact that I'll get to watch you be a mother."
She watched him carefully as he turned and walked to the other side of the room, where their suitcases were. He unzipped one of them and pulled out a small plastic bag, then walked over to her, "I found this at the gift shop," he said, pulling out a small piece of clothing.
She raked her eyes over the onesie, then a small smile crossed her face as she lifted her hand and traced the heart, then met his gaze, "I didn't come back because I thought you were pregnant," he said softly, almost in a whisper, "but because I wanted to marry you. And I got this because I wanted you to know that I was okay with us having a baby."
"That's sweet," she admitted, admiring the tiny outfit for a moment. She shut her eyes and shook her head, "But if you were having all these thoughts, if you thought, even for a second that you wouldn't make me happy or be a good husband, why on earth didn't you come talk to me."
He licked his lips and gently tossed the small outfit onto the dresser near them, "Because I already knew what you would say," he met her eyes, "I know you, better than I know myself I think, and I could hear your voice talking some damn sense into me."
She wiped her face again, "And what was my voice saying?"
He reached down and took her hand, "You were saying I shouldn't worry about how my parents' marriage ended or anybody else's problems, because they are not us," he said, then intertwined his fingers with hers, "they don't love each other like we do."
She smirked at him, then nodded.
"That's what you would have said, right?"
She smiled fully now and chuckled once, "That's exactly what I would've said," she swallowed and looked into his eyes, "so you listened to the Monica voice?"
He stared right back at her, then nodded once, "I've learned after many years of friendship and three years as the lucky guy who gets to kiss you whenever I want, that it's a good idea to listen to you."
"Yeah," she agreed softly.
There were a few seconds of silence between them as he swallowed and took a deep breath, "I was an idiot," he said, shaking his head, "I can't believe I managed to almost ruin the best thing in my life."
He lifted his head and gently placed his fingers on her chin to lift her head so that their eyes met. As always, he was amazed at how bright her eyes still shined, even in the very dim light.
"I am so, so, so very sorry, Mon," he whispered, then slid his hand so that it was cupping her face, "I know it's not enough," he swallowed hard, "and I'll never forgive myself for how I made you feel on what was supposed to be the best day of our lives."
She licked her lips and leaned forward so that her forehead was leaning against his, "I just don't want a life without you," she whispered, "and I thought you wanted a life without me," she shook her head, "and that hurt me."
"Never," he whispered back, "I'm so sorry," he said again, his voice breaking.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into her body for a hug, holding him tightly, "Please don't leave me," she whispered brokenly.
"I'll never leave you," he promised, then squeezed her even tighter, as if he was trying to soak her body into his, "God, Monica, I love you so much."
She shut her eyes for a second, then backed from the hug and looked him directly in the eyes, "I love you too."
Instead of kissing her like she thought he was going to, he backed away and walked over to the bedside table and began fiddling with the clock radio until he found a radio station with hardly any static.
Easy listening music filled the otherwise quiet room, and he smiled as he made his way back to her.
"What are you doing?"
He ran his hand down her arm, "Come here," he whispered, then lead her toward the middle of the room.
He pulled her close and placed his hand on the small of her back, then slipped his other hand in hers, "We didn't get a proper first dance," he said to her, then began to sway to the pace of the music, "and I want to make up every second of our wedding that I messed up."
He was right, they didn't have a proper first dance. When the band leader announced that it was time for it, the combination of his slippery shoes and her anger and annoyance with him didn't allow for hardly any normal dancing.
She had avoided him most of the night; she didn't even know where he was through the dinner.
She was glad that Phoebe pretending that she was pregnant with James Brolin's baby and then finding out that Rachel was the one that was pregnant with an unknown man's baby drama happened during the reception so she wouldn't have to focus on the fact that Chandler was going to leave her on the day of their wedding.
After dinner, she'd danced with her dad, Mom, brother, uncle, and with Rachel and Phoebe, hoping that her face displayed that she was happy like she wanted to be and not showing the inner turmoil she felt.
She did attempt to dance with Chandler again after her aunt kept insisting that she should be out there dancing with her new husband, but it didn't go well. She tried to perk herself up and when she finally got him on the floor, it didn't last but a few seconds before her parents cut in, Jack dancing with her and Judy dancing with Chandler.
Then, of course, in true mess-of-a-reception fashion, another disaster struck. Slippery shoe Chandler slipped, fell on his butt, and ripped her mother's dress off. Monica got off the dance floor as quickly as possible and rushed to the ladies' room where Rachel and Phoebe were.
After verifying that Rachel really was pregnant, she returned to the reception, chatted with some of her family, friends, and coworkers that were there, danced with Ben, and hung around until the band packed up and the caterer was mostly finished cleaning before heading upstairs to the honeymoon suite.
This, right here, though, was exactly what she had wanted. Slow dancing with her new husband, staring into his beautiful, perfect blue eyes and knowing that they were going to have a fantastic future together. She almost preferred this quiet, romantic moment between the two of them instead of dancing while all the guests were watching at the reception.
She lay her head on his shoulder as he pulled her even closer, then shut her eyes as she inhaled his scent. She heard his voice rattle in his chest as he spoke, "I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispered, and she lifted her head to look at him, "I'll never do it again."
"I know," she whispered back.
He smiled, "But I think you should probably get used to me screwing up," he sighed, "I think you probably already are used to it, but, now that we're married, you're pretty much stuck with me."
He felt like he just won first prize at the county fair when all her teeth showed as she smiled at him, "I'm happy to be stuck with you."
"Yeah?"
She chuckled, "Yeah."
She looked down at their feet as he slowly moved her around the room, his movements smooth and fluid. "You have gotten good at this," she mentioned, smiling at him as one song ended and another began to play.
"I had a good reason to," he returned, and she felt a blush cover her cheeks, "I didn't want you to be embarrassed with me on the dance floor, although I still somehow managed to make that happen."
She tilted her head and then shook it at him. He'd said the same thing at the reception in his typical self-deprecation manner, the one personality trait she wished she could change about him.
She'd jokingly told him that he could've easily embarrassed her, because he did, but not his dancing.
She shivered as Joey's words echoed in her head yet again, "Before the groom takes off again…"
She squeezed his hand, reminding herself that he showed up, and he was married to her now.
"I would've never been embarrassed dancing with you," she murmured, shaking her head just a little, "I married you, and you are the guy that I am going home with," she repeated, then swallowed hard as tears once again pooled in her eyes, "tonight, and every night," she added in a whisper.
He nodded at her and lifted his hands to cup her face, "And I'm the luckiest man on the planet."
She leaned her forehead against his, their lips tantalizing close to one another, so close that they could feel each other's breath, "I love you."
He leaned the millimeter forward it took to get to her and captured her lips, kissing her hungrily. He held her head and easily deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth as he liked.
She loved, and has always loved the way he kissed her, and now was no exception. A moan escaped the back of her throat, which only encouraged him as he devoured her mouth. She let go of his hands from dancing and lifted her hands to tangle them in his hair.
He only pulled away when he felt himself getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, "You're my entire world, baby," he whispered, trying to catch his breath.
"Please don't leave me," she responded, his words healing her shattered heart from earlier in the night, "please, tell me that we'll work out whatever problem we have. Don't run from me, from us."
"I won't," he responded, "I promise you, I won't," he whispered.
"You and I are forever," she murmured, fighting the fresh batch of tears that were trying to come to the surface of her eyes.
"We are," he agreed, "I know our marriage won't be perfect," he continued, "but we'll always work it out. I promise."
She whimpered softly, then brought his head down so that she could kiss him again. He kissed her for a second, but then pulled away, shaking his head, "No, wait, we're not doing this right."
She lifted an eyebrow, "What?" She allowed him to lead her outside the hotel room door, watching with curiosity as he closed it.
"I don't have shoes on," she mentioned.
He smirked at her, "You don't need them," he said, then kissed her again.
She pulled away as he opened the door once again, "What are you doing?" She asked, giggling a little.
He sighed, "Let's forget about my stupidity and start our marriage right," he said, and before she could respond, he quickly scooped her up in his arms and made her gasp as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "and that begins with me carrying you over the threshold."
He kissed her as he walked into the hotel room, then kicked the door closed as he continued towards the bed.
He wanted to lay her down but knew that it was going to take time and patience to get all the buttons of her wedding dress unbuttoned, so he let her feet down so that she could stand on her own again.
"Starting off right," she whispered, then squeezed his shoulders, "does that mean you're going to make love to me, husband?"
He ran his hands down her sides, "Yes," he leaned forward and kissed her, then slowly looked up and down her body, "often and with great enthusiasm."
"Oh, well, good," she ran her hands down his chest and cupped him through his pants, "because two months is a long time to wait for you."
He chuckled lowly in his throat as he pulled her body until it was fully against his, "God yes," he murmured, "too long."
"Let's fix that," she suggested.
He nodded and pulled himself down to her neck, "I'm still in disbelief I get to spend the rest of my life with you," he responded, "I love you."
"Oh, my sweetheart," she grabbed at him and tilted her neck when he gently sucked on that spot she liked, "I love you too."
