A/N: I struggled quite a bit with this chapter. I mean, I know exactly where the story's going, I know what I should write in the following chapters, and I know precisely how the story ends. But this chapter… God! I'm glad that I finally came around to finishing it. Sorry, this was why it took me this long to update the fic.
If It's Love
Chapter 4
Three condoms and several hours later, the two people laid in silence, contemplating their next move. Reality was setting in with the post-coital euphoria slowly fading away. In retrospect, things looked a lot worse than they would have liked. The conclusion was simple, though.
'Friends' don't sleep around with each other. They just don't.
"I should get going," Chandler said in a hushed tone, staring straight at the ceiling, breaking the tense silence.
He'd done millions of stupid things, all through his life as an adult. But this took the cake. He mentally patted himself on the back. Congratulations on reaching an all-new low.
"Yeah, you probably should," she replied in the same hushed tone, pulling the sheets closer to her, trying to prevent his bare skin from touching hers. A little too late for that, don't you think? asked her conscience spitefully.
Seducing someone was supposed to make her feel better. But that was not how it was working right now. A strange combination of remorse, guilt, and mortification swirled inside of her, as she implored Mother Earth to open up and swallow her. She attributed the failure of her plan to the fact that the person whom she'd seduced was Chandler.
You build a friendship for years. One moment of impetuousness is all it took to ruin it.
He finally turned his head and met her eyes. "Let's just pretend that this never happened," he told her, knowing she was thinking the same thing.
She nodded slowly, turning her head toward the ceiling again, her lips curving into a wry smile. "I guess friendship really doesn't work that way, huh?"
"No." He shook his head, sitting up, sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair. "It doesn't." He looked at her again, trying to not notice the opalescent glow that the moonlight pouring in through the window had bestowed upon her. "So." No new conversations could start here and nothing was left to be continued. He tried desperately to remember the way he'd used to look at her, before this night. Just as Monica, his friend. It seemed harder than he'd imagined it would be.
"So," she echoed, wondering if the awkwardness would fade away with time. She hoped it would, for if it didn't, she and he would both lose something very valuable, and it'd all be her fault.
"I have no idea what I'll tell Joey if he asks," he smiled, wanting to keep the morning-after conversation light.
"Yeah," she sighed, watching him lean over the side of her bed to gather his clothes, turning away as he got dressed, neither in the mood to continue the topic.
He leaned over onto her side as he buttoned up his shirt. She closed her eyes when she felt his warm lips on her forehead, his goatee rough against her skin. The act, which had once been so familiar and comforting to them both, now felt different somehow.
Maybe we'd lost something already, she thought, tears pricking behind her closed eyelids.
She felt the bed shift as he got off of it, she heard his footsteps as he walked away from her, and she finally opened her eyes when he opened the bedroom door.
Their eyes met one last time, seeking silent confirmation that it was okay, that their friendship was still intact, and that it could survive this.
"I'll see you at breakfast," he whispered into the darkness, knowing he would remember the image of a naked and aroused Monica for a very long time and will even relish the memory, whether or not he liked it.
She nodded, watching his silhouette leave the room, closing the door behind him without a sound.
~.~
Even though they'd been roommates for only about a week, Chandler could sense that he and Joey would become good friends within no time, maybe even as close as he was with Ross. There was something congenial between them, but he didn't know what it was. He certainly did not share the persistent hunger for women or food with Joey, but there was something that just made them click.
"I thought you and Monica were just friends," Joey stated, wiping his milk mustache with the back of his hand as he downed a huge glass of milk, even though he knew they'd both be leaving for Monica's place for breakfast within the next ten minutes.
For the copious amount of food that he consumed, it was a genetic miracle that Joey Tribbiani was not fat.
Chandler had hoped his not-so-bright new roommate wouldn't have noticed his absence the previous night, but he obviously had been wrong. "We-we are just friends," he stuttered, concentrating on tying his tie as he struggled to think of a good reason to explain his absence if Joey questioned him further.
"You spent the night at her place, though?" Joey frowned, not knowing that he was making Chandler uncomfortable. "Do you guys do that often?"
"No, we don't do it often!" Chandler started defensively but stopped just as soon as he realized how he'd sounded. This should remain a secret between him and Monica. He took a deep breath and continued in a slow monotone, "We were just watching a movie together, and I fell asleep on her couch. That's all." His tone indicated to Joey that he did not wish to discuss it further.
Sensing that he'd touched a nerve, Joey backed off. "Okkaay!" No woman had ever refused sex with him, but Monica had. He had only one logical explanation for that: she and Chandler had a thing. He decided to leave it at that. "Shall we get going?" he motioned to the door and started toward the place that acted as his next source of food.
~.~
Chandler took a bite of his toast, casting a discreet glance at Monica.
They had skirted around attraction on innumerable occasions, but none of those occasions had gone beyond the usual almost kiss. Sure, they had always considered themselves to be the best of friends, but there was an invisible line of 'something more' with which they had flirted one too many times. He wondered whether that was why the previous night had happened.
Discussions and conversations were flowing at their usual pace, but he failed in his efforts to concentrate on anything that was being said. It took him a few minutes to notice that Monica was not engaged in any of the discussions, either.
Joey leaned forward, interested, when Ross started to talk about how his wife was so gay, wondering how he'd failed to notice all the signs, even before she'd told him point-blank. "You really didn't know?" Joey asked for the third time that morning and shrunk back into his chair when Ross glowered at him.
"Oh, I know what you're going through, Ross." Phoebe patted his arm consolingly. "I mean, I had no idea Duncan was gay until he told me."
Yeah, well, everyone else knew Duncan was gay even before he told Phoebe.
Ross nodded sympathetically. "I know, Pheebs. I know."
Chandler found it interesting that these two were bonding over their partners' hidden sexual orientation. Now that was something that would probably never happen outside their dysfunctional group. He turned to Monica with an amused smile, like he always did when he found something to be funny.
But she didn't smile back like she always used to. His smile dropped from his face as his memories of the previous night came back in a rush. She just held his gaze while he saw something flicker in her eyes before she looked away.
He looked down at his plate again, realizing that they both, too, had contributed to the dysfunctionality of their little group, in their own way.
~.~
He waited until the other three left, not knowing that all the while, she was wishing that he would be the first one to leave.
He always ran when something went wrong in his life. It was an instinct. But this time, he wanted to face it head-on. He knew she didn't want to talk about what had happened between them and honestly, neither did he. But he also knew that they had to. He wanted her reassurance, and he wanted to reassure her that they would always be Chandler and Monica, the best of friends with an intent that was nothing but platonic.
He started tugging at his cuff, not knowing what to say, as she started to do the dishes, completely ignoring him. Finally, gathering the courage, he moved closer to her and turned the tap off. "I don't want it to be awkward between us, Mon." He held her hands, urging her to turn toward him.
She complied after a moment's hesitation. "I know, me neither," she sighed, shaking her head. "What was I thinking?" she smiled at him wryly, her cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red.
"Oh, I don't know." He shook his head. "You slept with me! I mean, how depressed were you?" he asked with a look of genuine wonderment on his face, tilting his head to one side.
"You don't give yourself enough credit, Chandler. Last night was…" she shrugged, struggling to find the correct word, all the while wondering why she was steering the conversation in this direction. "It was nice," she finished, her eyes moving away from his.
He didn't correct her understatement. If they'd known sex between friends could be that good, he didn't think they'd have waited this long.
"Yeah, it was." He nodded, acutely aware that they were flirting with that invisible line again. "But, afterward, it didn't feel that good," he shook his head, wanting to bring the conversation back on track. This friendship should remain platonic. He was never good at relationships. Romance was not his forte and it never would be. If, by some miraculous turn of events, this thing between him and Monica developed into something more, and if he screwed it up (which he definitely will), he would never be able to forgive himself.
She gazed back at him, nodding slowly, thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, Chandler," she whispered softly, looking into his eyes. "I didn't mean for last night to happen."
At that moment though, he wasn't sorry, at least not entirely so. But he nodded in acceptance, wondering whether she had ever thought about crossing that line with him before last night. For the sake of his self-esteem, he hoped she had.
"Can I hug you now?" he asked her with sudden desperation to be in her warm embrace.
She smiled, accepting his arms around her. Her ear pressed right above his racing heart, she tightened her arms around him. "What would I do without you, Chandler?" she murmured, even as she felt her own heart quicken its pace.
And that's what made something snap in him. 'What would I do without you?' A statement so simple yet so profound that it could explain the complete dependence of a person on you. Every time he replied 'Ditto, Mon' he knew his life completely depended on her, too.
They would never ruin their friendship. If he was looking for a moment of utter reassurance, it was this.
Nothing could ever ruin their friendship.
Maybe it was the smell of her skin, of her dark hair, or maybe it was something else entirely, but something snapped in him. Letting the moment, along with the bolt of electricity that shot through his body to take over him, he drew back and met her gaze. He slowly leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers in a soft, tentative kiss, waiting for her to push him off.
But she didn't push him off. Her hand rose to clutch his collar, and she pulled him closer instead by twisting it.
They'd skirted around this line far too often. They'd even crossed it the previous night. So what was the harm in doing it once more? What was the harm even if they kept doing it?
The answer that they both came up with was 'nothing'. As long as it stayed this way, as long as it didn't turn into something more than this, there was no harm.
She had worried that they'd lost something, but now, she knew that they'd found something, too. Is this what they called serendipity? she wondered as she parted her lips and met his tongue with hers.
Her lips tasted just as wonderful as they had the previous night. His fingers winding in her hair, he moved his lips to her jawline.
"What are we doing?" she whispered. Her voice held a trace of apprehension but desire blurred her senses. She clutched his shoulders tightly.
"I have no idea," he shook his head, leaning in to brush his lips against her neck. "Friendship could work this way, though," he murmured against her throat.
She leaned her head to one side as he kissed her neck, providing him with better access. Feeling the very obvious bulge in his pants against her hip, she closed her eyes, sighing in pleasure. "It could," she murmured back, her fingers working on his tie. His own fingers slowly undoing the buttons on her shirt, he leaned in to kiss her again.
In fact, friendship worked better this way.
They both had to leave for work, but work could always wait.
She met his lips for a moment but drew back a second later, stopping his hands from undoing the last button. "If we're doing this," she pecked his lips lightly, "we need to have some ground rules."
"Sure," he nodded, his attention not wavering from the last button. He undid it finally when she didn't stop him this time. He had missed this last night — being able to undress her himself. He was sure that there were few things in life that would rival the pleasure of Monica letting him undress her. "For starters, it's only sex. Nothing more," he said quietly as he took in her sheer pink bra that almost matched the color of her skin.
"Yes," she agreed. "Birthdays, holidays, break-ups," she paused as he pushed the shirt off of her shoulders, his attention turning immediately to her jeans.
"Good days, bad days," he continued from where she'd left off, his lips moving to the curve of her neck again, brushing against it fervently. "Horny days," he cocked his eyebrow, pulling back to look into her glazed, lust-clouded eyes.
She nodded as she helped him remove his shirt along with the rest of his clothes, both of them edging toward the couch. "We're not exclusive. If there's a potential for a real relationship with someone else, we stop." That felt like the most important rule in this arrangement.
"Yes." His hands moving to her back to unclasp her bra, they sunk onto the couch as he undid it and flung it blindly into the kitchen. "No jealousy, no possessiveness. And this stays between us." He hooked a finger into the elastic lace of her panties, and she raised her hips for him to get rid of the last piece of unwanted barrier between them. He dragged it down her legs and tossed it to the floor quickly. "Just sex. Nothing more," he repeated, leaning in to kiss her throat and collarbone, his lips descending further below.
"Nothing more," she echoed, pulling him on top of her fully, relishing the feeling of his bare skin against her own once again. Screw platonic love.
Finally, as he captured her lips with his own in a searing kiss, they shared one last unspoken rule.
No falling in love.
~.~.~
A/N: Oof, there's some serious self-delusion going on here. Anyway, that's short by my usual standards… The next chapter (I'm guessing) would be longer than this. And it shouldn't (hopefully) take me too long to update. Reviews for this chapter are very much appreciated :)
