A/N: This chapter deals with the events of 'TOW the Flashback'. It would help if you're familiar with it.
If It's Love
Chapter 3
March 1993
That looks like Rachel, thought Monica when she saw the woman dressed in lavender. Sure, she hadn't seen Rachel in over three years, and she did look strikingly different from the sweet, gossip-loving, high-school girl that she used to be, but Monica would still be able to recognize that face anywhere.
They'd started to drift apart in college, right around the time she'd lost all that weight. She'd tried to maintain some sort of contact with her for months and months, but on noticing that the efforts were predominantly one-sided, she'd reluctantly given up and resorted to her newfound friendship with Chandler, which had been very much mutual.
She saw Chandler walking back from Rachel and her group of friends, embarrassment evident on his face. What he'd been doing there in the first place, she had no idea. "What were you doing there?" she asked him and gestured to Rachel without waiting for his response. "I went to high school with her," she told him, and before she could stop herself, she called out for Rachel, ignoring his strange flapping.
Recognition flickered across Rachel's features immediately. "Monica!" she exclaimed, holding up her ring finger for her long-forgotten friend to see. She came toward her quickly, clearly excited, still holding her finger up. "Monica! Look! What do you think?"
She had heard about Rachel's engagement from her mother a few months ago — Do you remember Rachel, Sweetie? Rachel Greene? She got engaged last week to an orthodontist! Isn't that great? All your friends are getting engaged now, Monica... Why don't you let me set you up on a date with Tim? He's Richard Burke's son. A doctor, too. I just think you should do it because the older you get, dates are going to be harder to come by.
Following the cursory hug, Monica examined the finger that was still thrust in her face. "Oh, my God! You can't even see where the Titanic hit it!" she remarked on the gaudy ring. She wouldn't be caught dead wearing that thing.
However, the comment seemed to please Rachel, who took it as a compliment and proudly informed Monica that her fiancé was a doctor. "So, how are you?" she finally asked the question that most people would begin with. She then clasped her hand together and added, "Are you seeing anybody?"
That was one question that haunted Monica these days. Why? Why did she have to go there? Monica put on a happy face anyway and replied as brightly as she could. "Not right now," she shook her head, smiling.
But Rachel appeared thoroughly flummoxed by the answer, as if being single were a phenomenon she'd never heard of before. "Oh, but that's okay," she told Monica consolingly with a sympathetic wave of her hands.
I freaking know that, Monica growled in her head. The sheer audacity... Wow. "I know," she bit back. The conversation had been going on for less than two minutes, but she was already regretting her impromptu decision to call out for Rachel. And then they just stared at each other, neither knowing what to say next. This was a girl that Monica had been inseparable from during her younger years, but now, they didn't seem to have a single thing to talk about.
For a moment, she felt a pang of overwhelming regret for what she and Rachel had lost, possibly forever, but she brushed it aside quickly. She'd been over this a long time. With everything unsavory that was going on in her life right now, the last thing she needed was to prod old wounds.
"So, I- I think I'll get back to my friend," Monica said finally, motioning toward Chandler. She could see the relief flooding Rachel's face, and she knew that her own face held that exact same expression. This had just been a painful exercise in trying to resuscitate a friendship that was long past its date of expiry.
"Oh, sure, sure." Rachel nodded, turning to Chandler, who grinned at her sheepishly as he held up the cue ball.
What was going on with him?!
Rachel just ignored him and turned to Monica again. "Listen, can we please have lunch the next time I'm in the city?"
Her once best friend looked at her with what seemed like genuine sincerity, but there was something about it that felt fake. Was it the head-tilt? Or the nose-crinkling, maybe? Monica couldn't quite tell. She just knew that it was yet another perfunctory gesture. So she agreed with a fake smile of her own. "Oh, that would be great!"
Chandler stood up and came to her as Rachel left. Monica prophesied without looking at him. "Ten bucks says I never see that woman again in my life."
He placed the cue ball on the table, knowing that she was no longer in the mood to play pool. "Or, we could spice things up," he told her as he tried to cheer her up.
"How?" She saw him smiling suggestively at her.
"I liked that 'you whipping my butt' idea that you were talking about," he grinned, and as she rolled her eyes, he jumped from one foot to the other, excited. "Okay, how about this? How about this? If I win, you get to sleep with me. And if you win," he paused dramatically, raising his eyebrows. "If you win... I'll sleep with you," he shrugged magnanimously.
"In your dreams, Bing," she scoffed, smacking his arm lightly as they left the bar together.
She glanced at Rachel one last time as her brain processed the fact that her childhood friend was indeed getting married. Her own ex-boyfriend was now married, too. Everyone seemed to be getting married. Everyone except her. She was nowhere close to a wedding.
"Uhm..." she cleared her throat, looking at Chandler. "So, who is this new roommate?" she asked as they entered her apartment, trying to take her mind off of everything else.
"Eric. The photographer. I told you, right?"
"Yeah." She nodded. "But didn't you say he was dull?"
"Mon," he held her by the shoulders, speaking seriously. "When the dull guy photographs models, and when the dull guy's sister is a pornstar, you have to overlook the dullness."
She grinned, shrugging. "I still wish you'd picked the Italian guy. He was cute!"
He looked at her pointedly. "What's with you and my roommates, anyway?" he asked and then regretted it almost as soon as the statement had left his mouth. Mentioning or even referring to Kip with Monica was blasphemy. "I'm sorry," he murmured on seeing the hurt on her face.
"That's all right," she nodded, avoiding his eyes.
Unless she figured out a way to get over this whole Kip thing, it was going to suck her life away, slowly and steadily.
~.~
So the 'cute Italian guy' had stripped in front of her.
At least, for his part, he'd had the grace to appear embarrassed. "This stays between us, right?" Joey had asked once she'd explained that 'You wanna come in for some lemonade?' didn't essentially mean 'You wanna have sex?' And she'd of course agreed. The last thing that she needed was for Chandler to be unhappy with another roommate of his, because of her.
Was she giving off some sort of strange pheromone that attracted men like these? She pondered that question as she vacuumed the area where he'd disrobed. With the vacuum cleaner in her hand, she turned toward Phoebe's room.
What the-
She turned off the machine, looking at Phoebe incredulously. "Pheebs! Where's your bed?!"
Phoebe stuttered and stumbled over her words before she finally spoke the truth. "I- I've- I don't live here anymore." She then held Monica's hand in hers and explained, "I love you, and I want us to be friends. But if I keep living here, I don't see that happening."
Monica nodded, although she didn't understand the reason behind Phoebe's reluctance to live with her. The stain on the cushion bothered her, but that was who she was. In the days that had followed her breakup with Kip, she'd been grateful for the warmth and friendship that Phoebe, Chandler, and Ross had provided her.
Was she so unbearably terrible as a roommate? As a girlfriend?
She usually would stop herself from going down that path, but if every single person who meant something to her chose to leave her after a point, the conclusion couldn't really be anything else, right?
"Will you help me pack the rest of my things?" Phoebe asked softly, trying to cheer her up.
Things were starting to change. It just felt like something was sapping away all her energy.
Phoebe was leaving her. Leaving her all alone.
~.~
The week couldn't possibly get any worse. Kip was married. Rachel was getting married. Her new neighbor had stripped in her apartment. Phoebe had moved out.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. She opened the bathroom door and started toward her bedroom, feeling utterly dejected. She couldn't remember a time when she'd felt this desolate before.
"Helloo!" Chandler greeted her in a singsong voice as he briskly entered the apartment. "Do you have any beers? We're out of beers."
"Help yourself," she waved to the fridge glumly.
He stopped in his tracks as her dreary response caught his attention. "You ok-kay?" he asked gently, moving away from the fridge and toward her.
She didn't want to do this now — talking to him and him trying to get her to cheer up — but if at all anyone had a shot at cheering her up from this mess that was now her life, it was Chandler. Maybe he would crack some stupid jokes, maybe he would just give her one of his warm bear-hugs. Either way, he would succeed in lifting her spirits up. And maybe that was what she needed now.
So she turned around, sighing. "Phoebe moved out," she shrugged.
He didn't look at all surprised. "Right," he nodded, taking a few more steps before he stopped right in front of the picture window.
"I don't understand. Am I so hard to live with?" she tried unsuccessfully to keep the desperation out of her voice. "Is this why I don't have a boyfriend?"
"No!" he denied, instant and firm. "You don't have a boyfriend, because…" he trailed off, looking unsure. "I don't-" he shrugged helplessly. "I don't know why you don't have a boyfriend." He moved closer to her. "You should have a boyfriend," he nodded with conviction.
"Well," tears stung her eyes. "I think so," she agreed, forlorn.
That alone melted his heart. "Ohh..." he took the last few steps to bridge the gap between them. "C'mere," he said as he pulled her into a hug, neither of them caring that she was wearing only a towel. "C'mere. Listen," he continued, pulling her closer to him. "You are one of my favorite people and the most beautiful woman I've ever known in real life."
She smiled up at him before she laid her head on his chest, holding him tightly. He smelled like soap and beer, and he swayed in place as he hugged her, like he was trying to soothe her.
And he did, he did soothe her. She still felt like crap, she still didn't have a boyfriend or a roommate. But with his arms wrapped around her, tender and protective as if he didn't plan on letting her go, she did feel infinitesimally better. "What would I do without you?" she mumbled into his chest, taking in a deep breath of him.
He pressed his lips against the side of her head. "Ditto, Mon," he murmured back.
That's when she felt it, an incredible connection to him. It had always, always been there, but she'd never been as acutely aware of it as she was at that moment. She'd been about to drift off in her melancholia, but he was pulling her back to him, tethering her to himself.
She leaned back in his embrace slowly, carefully regarding him, trying to remember the last time he hadn't been there for her.
She couldn't. He has and had always been there. He was always there to tell her that things were going to be okay. He was always there after a lousy date, lending his shoulder for her to lean on. He was always there to wipe her tears away. He was always there to make her happy.
Then a thought fluttered in out of thin air, like a whisper.
Maybe he could make her happy now...?
She hadn't looked at him in this light in a long time, not since the day he'd called her 'fat' behind her back.
Sure, there had been temptations and inevitable moments between them over the years, like there naturally would be for a guy and a girl who had been friends for a long time. But she usually never let herself see him that way because they were friends and there were rules.
Now though, with him pressed up against her, all warm and solid and masculine, that line seemed incredibly blurred.
"What?" he looked at her inquisitively, lightly running his fingers along her bare arm. Since the beginning, they'd been very physically intimate as friends. His gesture now was nothing that would be considered unusual between them, but tonight, it made her shiver, and it blurred the line further.
All of a sudden, she knew there was only one thing that she wanted that night. To feel desired. She needed to feel beautiful and wanted and desired. Desired by Chandler. Yes, he kept calling her beautiful, but words meant nothing without proof.
"Nothing," she shrugged slowly, pulling away from him a little as she placed a palm over the steady thump thump thump of his heart. Her own heart was pounding against her ribs now. "It's just... Do you ever think there could be something more between us?" she cocked an eyebrow.
He couldn't figure out what she was talking about. Any other time, he'd have thought she was just pulling his leg, but now, he knew she was too despondent to joke. "What?" he asked her again, wondering if he'd misheard her.
A look of determination settled over her features. She stood on her toes and kissed his chin, and he took a sharp intake of breath, surprised. "Do you think two friends could sleep together for one night and not have it be a big deal?" she murmured in a tone that he had never heard from her before.
Now, there was no doubt in his mind as to what she was talking about. His hands hovered around her waist, helpless, as he stood still in shock and consternation. He was becoming fully aware of her state of undress for the first time. When he coupled it with her tone and her kiss, his body reacted immediately. Primally. And he hated himself for it.
This is Monica, he sternly reprimanded himself. "I don't think friendship works that way, Mon," he managed finally as he held her by her waist and gently moved her away. "Joey is waiting for me. I should let you get dressed."
Still reeling under the shock, he was unprepared when she threw her arms around his neck again as she kissed his cheek and then the lobe of his ear. "Just for tonight, Chandler," she whispered against the shell of his ear before running the tip of her tongue along its intricacies.
He froze.
This had to be a nightmare. Or was it supposed to be a dream? He had no idea. He willed himself to wake up because Ross's little sister — his best friend and neighbor — sticking her tongue in his ear did not even belong in the realm of possibilities. But it was very, very much a reality, as she was turning them around and backing him toward the bedroom door.
Too many voices screaming in his brain, one told him the most inconsequential detail, given the circumstances – She is surprisingly strong for a woman of her frame. His back met the bedroom door, but unfortunately for him, the door hadn't been closed fully. The door swung open as both of them stumbled into her bedroom until his back was pressed against the wall near its entrance, and she was firmly pushed against him.
She was peppering his face with kisses. "Monica, this is a terrible-" he started, but she cut him off.
"I need this, Chandler. I'm sick and tired of being miserable." Her lips met the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "I need you."
That's all it took. I need you, coming from Monica's lips, was all it took to get him fully erect within embarrassing seconds. His ragged breathing and wildly thumping heart weren't helping him, either. He was on the verge of losing his sanity. "Mon, I don't think this is a good idea at all." His fingers gripped her shoulders tightly, but he couldn't find the strength to push her away anymore.
She stopped her ministrations for a moment and pulled away to look at him. "Who said it was a good idea?" She shook her head. "All I'm saying is, I need this. And you, how long has it even been since you last had sex?" Her eyebrow climbed higher as she waited for him to respond.
She had a point. And there was no way in hell he was answering that question.
When it became clear that he wasn't going to reply, she murmured seductively, "It's a win-win, Chandler." She undid a couple of buttons on his shirt and kissed the exposed skin, both of them knowing fully well that he was about to crack. The way she pressed herself against him told him that she knew exactly how aroused he was.
There was only so much a man could take. He closed his eyes in frustration. It was like a deep-buried fantasy come true. If she'd wanted this from him a few years ago, he'd have gladly said yes. But now, was it worth risking a friendship of almost five years? Didn't he have any self-control?
She undid the remaining buttons on his shirt and pulled the shirt off his shoulders. Her fingers moved along his ribcage, drawing lazy circles around his navel as she placed feathery kisses along his torso. "Just for tonight, Chandler," she breathed against his skin.
In all his twenty-five years of existence, that was the most alluring statement anyone had ever said to him. She was an alabaster porcelain goddess, and she wanted him. How the hell was he supposed to say no?
He struggled with his conscience for a few more seconds, but if it was just for one night, what was the harm?
Lust won out over sanity.
"Just for tonight?" he asked breathlessly, slowly running his fingers along the outline of her breasts, just above the edge of her towel.
She yanked the towel away from her body in one swift motion. "Just for tonight," she repeated, just as breathless, wasting no time in pulling his lips towards hers for a kiss, pressing her body flush against his. All rational thoughts flying out the window as their lips met, she parted her lips, allowing his tongue to softly, tentatively caress hers, his hands roaming her body. He groaned into the kiss when her fingers brushed his groin, making him more aroused than he could ever remember being. She quickly began working on his fly.
When the last few blood cells drained from his brain rapidly, purposefully, and drifted south, he knew they were in trouble.
At that moment, though, with the feel of her deliciously warm, bare skin against him drugging him instantly, he couldn't have cared less about any trouble that they were getting themselves into.
If only it could be as simple as just for tonight.
~.~.~
A/N: What can I say? I've been watching loads of FWB-themed movies and here's the end product :D
