Hi again friends! (Pun intended, ha!)

This was started on Christmas Eve in 2020 (don't judge), but I just got around to finishing it.

It's set during season 9, episode 10, but I changed some stuff around, of course.

This is super, super mushy, I'm warning you...

But what can I say? I live vicariously through their love. Also, it gets a little steamy towards the end, but nothing you'll need to shield your eyes over. If you want to shield your eyes, head on over and read "Taking Care of Business". That one is super steamy.

Review when you get to the end? :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I just live vicariously...


Christmas Eve, 2002

Monica took in and let out a deep breath as she stared out of the picture window in her living room.

It was the holiday season, but she didn't want to celebrate. She didn't want to drink wine and eat food and spend the evening playing games and laughing with Joey, Phoebe, Ross, and Rachel. It was what they did on Christmas Eve, but Monica wasn't feeling it this year.

The four of them were behind her in the living room, intently listening to one of Joey's stories about a date he had earlier in the week. She didn't want to listen.

She wanted him. Chandler Bing, her husband, her best friend, her person.

She ached for all five of her senses to be filled by him as they had so many times in the past.

She took in and let out a deep breath. She shut her eyes, trying to imagine his arms wrapped around her. She'd smell the wonderful smell of his aftershave and feel his skin as she wrapped her arms around his. She'd turn around in his arms and look into his perfect blue eyes, then she'd lean up and whisper 'I love you', just to hear him whisper it back.

Then, she'd kiss him. She'd taste every inch of that wonderful mouth of his.

They'd been married for well over a year now, but kissing him had never gotten boring or old. She didn't think it ever would.

His kisses had always made her dizzy, drunk with desire. That spark between them, that connection they shared was something she didn't think she could ever describe to anyone else. She remembered the happiness that surrounded her when he announced to all of their friends that he was in love with her, and she followed with the truth she'd known since mere weeks after London, she was in love with him.

She felt the need to find that extremely drunk guy that thought she was Ross's mother and thank him for crushing her soul and allowing her to seek Chandler and kickstart the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Was it perfect? Absolutely not. No marriage was perfect.

She knew she drove him insane with her constant need to win and everything perfectly clean and in its place, and he drove her equally nuts when he tried to joke his way out of practically every situation and his constant lack of self esteem crap.

But she loved him with every fiber of her being.

She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed them with her hands, the coldness from the window cutting through her. He wasn't there, she couldn't see, smell, hear, touch, or taste him.

It wasn't fair.

Chandler hated his job…hated it!

So, why was she standing here without him? Why wasn't he with her on Christmas?

It had been two weeks since she'd seen him. He couldn't come home the weekend before last because of the pile of work he was trying to get done and she had to work the previous weekend, so he'd told her that he would stay and work so that he could come home for Christmas.

But then, he couldn't even get home for Christmas. He was such a good man, with a great heart, and she understood why he couldn't make his subordinates work while he got to spend Christmas with his family.

But she felt heartbroken, alone.

And they were married, she wasn't supposed to feel like that, not anymore.

She missed him all the time. He was on her mind all the time.

She had promised him and he agreed to make her happy that they would make it work so that she could keep her new, perfect job. He had to go to Tulsa, but she didn't want to move to Oklahoma. Then, Javu was looking for a head chef and made her resistance to move with him even worse.

It wasn't a hard decision at the time. Her excitement over the seemingly perfect job for her and the knowledge that she would still get to see her husband pretty regularly made it okay. Long-distance shouldn't be a problem for a marriage as strong as theirs.

But now, three months had gone by with her only getting to see Chandler less and less. In the beginning, she got to see him three days a week. He'd get home on Thursday night and he'd be with her on Friday, Saturday, and most of Sunday. But now, it had turned into one day, because he didn't get home until late Saturday afternoon and had to leave again Sunday afternoon.

He blamed the short visits home on the stupid New York guys, claiming that they were dumping all of the unwanted work on the Tulsa guys.

Call her selfish, but didn't care about the other people. Seeing her husband less than five days a month just was not going to work.

She didn't want to be without him for that many days during the year, and she particularly didn't want to be without him during Christmas and New Years'.

"Mon?" Rachel called, then stepped up next to her former roommate. She furrowed her eyebrows together as she didn't get an answer from the brunette, "Monica?" Monica shivered more as she finally turned her head and met Rachel's eyes, "hey, what's wrong honey?"

Monica swallowed the lump in her throat. If she told her that the only thing that was wrong was that she was missing Chandler, she knew Rachel would think she was insane. All of her friends would.

They didn't get it.

They didn't get how in love she was with him, how she craved him when they were apart.

Tears welled up in her eyes when she started to speak, her eyes turning away from Rachel and back to the window again, "I miss my husband," she said simply.

Rachel tilted her head and squeezed Monica's arm gently, "Aw, sweetie. He'll be home in a few days."

Monica shut her eyes and tried to ignore the heartbreak that rippled through her.

Rachel's reaction was exactly how Monica imagined it to be.

"Why are you so upset?" She asked, rubbing her arm, "didn't you talk to him earlier?"

Monica looked down at her shoes, then back out of the window again. Yes, she'd talked to him earlier in the afternoon. His voice wasn't his, he sounded upset, distant, when he told her he couldn't come home.

Talking on the phone with him didn't nearly cure her loneliness. "It's Christmas," she whispered to Rachel, "I want him with me."

Rachel stroked her arm soothingly, "you guys can celebrate together when he gets home."

She let a tear roll down her face as she slowly shook her head. Phoebe, Joey, and Ross now stood behind Rachel, each of their faces a mix of concern and sadness.

"It's not the same," she said, her voice breaking, "I can't do this," she added and wiped a tear from her face.

"Mon, yes you can. You've been doing it for three months now, and your relationship is so solid!" Ross said and stepped closer to her, "I know you guys will be okay," he added, "and, you have us here!" He wrapped his arm around his sister's shoulders.

She looked up at her brother in disbelief, tears pooled in her eyes. He didn't get it either.

He had been married three times, but he obviously didn't love any of his wives like she loved Chandler.

Well, maybe he did love Rachel like that, she didn't know. She was tired of attempting to keep up with the Rachel and Ross saga.

She was done. She didn't want to be away from Chandler on Christmas, and she wasn't going to. She wouldn't be happy until she was with him again, and that was no way to spend the holiday season.

She loved Christmas, and she wanted to be happy and with her husband.

"No," she finally replied, then stepped away from Ross's grasp, "I'm going to Tulsa."

She stepped off of the landing, but her stomach flipped with guilt as she realized that now, she wouldn't be with her friends tomorrow. It would be breaking tradition, a tradition she looked forward to every year.

"Guys, I'm sorry," she said and lifted a hand to wipe another tear from her face, "I just, I want to be with Chandler. It's not only hard because he's not here, it's hard because I know he's alone. Sitting in a hotel room by himself. I can't stand that."

The four of them bobbed their heads, and when she started to walk to her bedroom again, Phoebe grabbed her hand to stop her.

Monica lifted an eyebrow at her in confusion, but Phoebe only smiled and squeezed her hand, "didn't you say that you don't believe in soul mates?"

"Uh, well, I don't know. I think it's kind of silly, thinking that one person was meant for you."

Phoebe let go of her hand and chuckled at her, "well, I've got news for you, Chandler Bing is yours." Monica swallowed and looked away from her blonde friend, "Monica, you've found the one that your soul loves. You don't just love him, you are in love with him. You need him, and he needs you." She finally looked at Phoebe again, a smile now stretched across her face, "he was made for you, and you for him."

She stepped up to Phoebe and kissed her on the cheek, "I'm going to be with my soul mate."

"Go," Phoebe said.

Monica wiped her face again and went into her bedroom, a smile on her face as she threw her bag to pack clothes in on the bed.


Monica shivered as she stepped off of the plane and into the tunnel at the airport. It was late now, almost ten at night in Tulsa.

She guessed he would probably be sleeping by now, but at least she would be with him. She could cuddle up next to him and he'd hold her all night long.

She shivered again and crossed her arms tighter around her body. The air was cool and her hands were like ice with nervousness. She hoped he was actually in his hotel room and not out with his coworkers or still working late.

She couldn't wait to see him, and she didn't really want to go to his office this late and doubted she could get past security anyway.

She looked around the mostly quiet airport in hopes to find a rental car booth open, but all of them were dark.

She didn't know how far Chandler's hotel was from the airport, but she was pretty sure she didn't want to walk in the cold air.

She would, though, if that was what it took to get to him.

She moved forward and further into the airport. Maybe someone around the international airport would be open.

An excited smile spread across her face as she found one that was open, but there were several people standing in line. She groaned and adjusted her overnight bag higher on her shoulder as she made her way to the end of it.

Hopefully, it would move quickly.


Chandler groaned and put down the magazine he had been looking through.

He was growing impatient.

He looked down at his watch, only 40 more minutes.

That seemed like an eternity.

"God," he whispered to himself. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. His stomach growled, he hadn't eaten since breakfast.

He covered his face with both of his hands and ran them all the way up through his hair. He needed something to do, something to keep his mind off of Monica.

He didn't know how to do it.

He began to think about all those years he wasted before London. All of those times when he wanted to ask her out but he chickened out because he didn't want to mess up their friendship, and he didn't think she'd ever go for it after she told him that he couldn't be her boyfriend.

He smiled at the memory. That was before they fell in love; when they were just friends who flirted once in a while.

What an idiot he was.

Now, he couldn't get enough of her.

He didn't think it was possible to love a human being as much as he loved Monica, but it was. And he did.

"Hi," a strange voice said to his right.

Chandler lifted his eyebrows and turned his head to investigate. He was surprised to learn that yes, she was trying to get his attention, "hi," he answered.

The woman giggled and stood, walking to sit two seats down from him, just a little closer, "I've said hello about four times," she said, you were in some pretty deep thought."

He licked his lips and chuckled at that, "I didn't know you were talking to me," he said.

"I was," she assured him, and grinned as she leaned down to see his face, "what's your name?" She asked.

He cleared his throat, "uh, Chandler."

She reached out her hand, "I'm Clarissa."

He reached over and shook her hand, then dropped it quickly. She glanced over at the paperwork he held in his hands, "ah, look," she said sweetly, "we're just one row apart from each other."

Chandler raised his eyebrows at her. Was she flirting with him?

Could this possibly happen twice in one day?

Maybe he was hot in Tulsa.

"So, why are you here?" she asked, tucking some hair behind her ear.

Chandler turned his attention from fake looking at the magazine back to her, "I'm heading home," he said, a slow smile spread across his face. He hadn't told any of his friends or Monica that he was coming. He wanted to surprise them.

"Have you lived in New York all of your life?" She continued, then propped her head up on her hand.

He nodded, "most of my life, yes." he said, then pressed his lips together.

"Really? Wow, what's it like?"

He cleared his throat, "well, crowded," he said with a sarcastic chuckle, "but uh, I like it, I guess. I never really thought about living anywhere else."

"What are you doing in Tulsa?" She asked.

He didn't know she had started a game of 20 questions, "uh, here for work."

"Ah, a hardworking man, too?" She said, then poked his arm, "that's great." Chandler pressed his lips together again. It wasn't great. He hated that stupid job.

"So, um, what do you do for fun?"

He sighed, hadn't she already asked him 20 questions? Shouldn't the game be over now? He didn't want to be rude to her, he wasn't that kind of guy. And maybe some years ago, before he wasn't head over heels in love with Monica, he might have paid more attention to her.

But he didn't want this now. From Wendy, or from…what was her name? Marissa? Delissa?

"Oh, not a lot. I don't really get into the city much other than to work. Maybe a dozen times a year. I have some pretty great friends and we mostly hang out at our apartments."

"Oh, well, maybe when we get to New York, you and I could grab a cup of coffee?" She asked, then leaned in closer to him, "because, I think you smell great and I could probably show you some fun."

He looked over at her, smiled slightly, "uh, look, I'm flattered, really," he said, then held his left hand up for her to see, "but I'm married."

She scoffed, "well, that ring will slide off of your finger," she said with a sharpness in her voice that wasn't there before, "at least, it did for my husband."

"My ring doesn't slide off of my finger," he said, "I love my wife very much and I am lucky to have her." He had just given the same speech yesterday to Wendy, and he felt as if he was living in the twilight zone. Since when did these women find him so attractive?

"Wow, I would flirt with the last decent guy on the planet only to find out that he's married," she said with an eye roll.

"Well, yeah. I am married. I may be an idiot and screw a lot of things up, but my marriage won't be one of them. She's the best thing that ever happened to me."

Chandler got his answer to the question of whether or not she was trying to flirt with him by the look of disappointment on her face. He pressed his lips together.

"Guess I will be spending Christmas alone," she said with a sigh, then crossed her arms and legs in a huff, "sorry I bothered you."

"I'm sorry," he said, then stood and pulled his duffel bag over his shoulder, "I hope you find what you're looking for. Have a nice Christmas."

He left the woman's side and walked down from the terminal just a bit. Maybe there was a vending machine or some sort of food store somewhere still open.

He wanted to get home.

He missed his home, his friends, his bed.

But mostly, he missed his wife.

He couldn't wait to get back to her, and spending Christmas without her was absolutely not an option. It would be late when he got home, well after 1 AM, but he didn't care. He would be with Monica.

He found a row of vending machines and began to look at each of the items to choose from. He groaned as he decided on a way overpriced candy bar. He pulled out his wallet and put a five-dollar bill in, then pressed the letter B and the number 7. The machine spit out a quarter for change and began to whirl as it dispensed his chocolate.

He leaned down and fished the candy bar out of the machine and stood to his full form. He tore the chocolate bar open and stuck one hand in his pocket and began to look around at the few people walking around the airport as he sank his teeth into the candy.

God, he was really losing it.

There was a woman that was walking away from him that looked just like Monica from the back. He shook his head at himself, "get a grip Chandler," he said out loud.

He peeled back more wrapper of his candy bar and took another bite. He tried not to look in Monica's twin's direction because people usually got a little freaked out when strangers stared at them, but he just couldn't help himself. He took a couple of steps to his right and squinted his eyes to see if he could find her again.

His eyes landed on the woman again moments later. She was standing in line behind four people, her arms crossed, her travel bag over her shoulder, her head still turned away from him as she glanced around the airport.

Perhaps he needed to get his prescription checked, or possibly wear the glasses like he was supposed to.

That woman was even standing like Monica, her hair was black, her height was about the same…

He furrowed his eyebrows together.

It wasn't her, it couldn't possibly be.

Monica was in New York, probably watching It's A Wonderful Life with their friends, eating popcorn and various snack foods, and drinking wine like they did every Christmas.

Monica wasn't at the Tulsa airport.

But her twin was.

He walked a few steps towards the stranger, taking another bite of the chocolate. The woman still hadn't looked towards him.

The line moved forward and she took a step forward and finally turned her head so that he could get a decent look at her face.

His heart rate sped up to a dramatic level as he realized that yes, that was his wife. He stood there, watching her from a distance, in disbelief that he was trying to get to her and it appeared that she was trying to get to him.

A smile spread slowly across his face.

God, what a beautiful woman she was. And she was his. All his, for the rest of his life.

He tossed the rest of the candy bar into the trash and took a few more steps towards her. Should he just grab her and plant a kiss on her lips or should he play with her a bit?

He decided the latter, besides, he wouldn't be Chandler unless he did, right?

He walked behind her and tapped the woman that now stood in line behind Monica. He motioned for her to step away from the line so Monica wouldn't hear his voice.

"Hi," he said softly to the woman, who was utterly confused.

"Hello, do I know you?" She asked.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm Chandler," he said and held out his hand.

She put her smaller hand in his and shook it slowly, "um, I'm Joan," she said, "but if you're selling something..."

Chandler chuckled nervously, "no, no, not at all. Uh, that's my wife in front of you in line. She doesn't know that I'm here." Joan looked over her shoulder at Monica, then turned back to Chandler, her eyebrow raised, "yeah, anyway, um, could you help me?"

Chandler smiled with relief as a smile stretched over her face, "oh, you want to surprise her!" She said, "God, that is so sweet. My husband wouldn't ever do anything like this. I'm thrilled to help you."

Chandler leaned in a little closer to her and whispered his plan.

Moments later, Joan stepped back in line just as Monica stepped up to the counter. Chandler stood back and watched, his stomach clenching with nervousness.

He couldn't wait to get his hands on her.

"Hi, I'd like to get a rental please," Monica said. Her aggravation had grown because of the waiting for this entirely too slow line to dissipate. She wanted to get to Chandler before next Christmas, for crying out loud.

"Can I see your driver's license?" The uninterested worker said to her. She nodded and began to look in her purse for her wallet when she felt someone tap on her shoulder.

She glanced over it at the blonde woman, "yes?" She said.

"Um, ma'am, you cut in line," Joan said.

Monica lifted an eyebrow at the stranger as she found her wallet, "um, no I didn't," Monica argued softly.

"Yes, you did. I was next and you're going to have to let me go first."

Monica handed the guy her driver's license and rolled her eyes. She turned to the woman slightly, "look, I didn't cut in line, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Joan nearly shouted.

Monica's eyes grew big and the worker leaned to the side to look at Joan, "ma'am, is there a problem?"

"Yes! This is woman cut in front of me and she won't go to the back of the line!"

Monica had just about had it. She turned all the way around on her heel, "lady, it's Christmas, and I..." she looked over then and her heart dropped to the floor when her blue eyes met his, a smile spread across his handsome face.

Was she imagining things? Was this her mind missing him so much that it made him up?

"Chandler?" She whispered as tears sprang in her eyes. She felt as if her heart was going to leap out of her chest.

"Your husband is waiting on you," Joan said with a smile.

Monica chuckled once and touched the lady's hand as she ran over to him and jumped into his arms, squeezing him tightly.

"So I guess she doesn't need a car?" The guy asked, holding up Monica's driver's license.

Joan turned back to him and shook her head, a smile on her face, "probably not."

"Oh Mon," Chandler said, inhaling her scent as he held onto her like she was going to fall from his grasp. He finally pulled back from her to look into her tear-filled eyes, "hey sweetheart," he whispered.

"Hi," she managed, then pulled him into a tight hug again, "I missed you," she whispered back.

He shut his eyes and turned his head so that he could kiss her neck, "Damn, I missed you too baby."

She didn't know how this man still held the power to make her feel weak in the knees, but he did. She thinks he always will.

"What are you doing here?" She asked brokenly. She pulled back from the hug far enough so that she could see his face, "how did you know I was going to be here?"

He grinned at her and kissed her fully on the lips, "I didn't," he said to her, then reached in his jacket pocket with one hand and kept his other wrapped around her. He pulled out his plane ticket, "I'm supposed to be boarding in a few minutes to fly to New York, to get to you."

"Oh, God," she said, gripping him again, then kissed him, "Chandler," she whispered, just to make sure he was really there, in her arms.

He groaned and kissed her again, and this time she put her hands on the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

"You taste like chocolate," she whispered when he pulled back from her.

He smiled and reached up to cup her face, tears streaming down it now, "I was eating a candy bar when I saw you," he shook his head, "I didn't believe it was you at first. I thought you were home, with our friends, watching movies and opening gifts." He sighed and smiled at her, "but you're here. Why did you come here?" He asked softly. He took a couple of steps with her to move them to behind one of the concrete columns inside of the airport. He lifted her bags from her shoulder and put them on the floor along with his. Maybe they could have just a little more privacy this way.

The duo didn't usually put on a show in front of other people like this, but now, neither of them cared, PDA or not.

She gripped his jacket with both of her hands as if he was going to get away from her, "I didn't want to be without you," she said simply, her voice strained as she fought tears, but it didn't do any good; they began to stream down her face anyway. She was too happy, too relieved, too in love.

"I want to be with you every day, Chandler." She swallowed as she continued, the words programmed in her head. She'd practice what she was going to say to him on the plane, "I want to wake up next to you every morning and I want to fall asleep next to you every night. So, I've decided that I'll quit my job and move to Tulsa. I'll work as a dishwasher at some barbeque joint, I don't care. This long-distance marriage isn't going to work for me," she cupped his face, her hands cupping around his ears, "nothing else matters to me."

"Mon," he breathed against her lips before he dove into another kiss. He broke the kiss moments later and moved her hands from his face, then placed a kiss in her palm, "no," he whispered and opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off.

"Yes," she argued, "I'm not going to be without you, I..." she stopped then, his finger over her lips silenced her.

"I've already quit my job," he said softly. Her mouth fell open a little in shock, so he smiled, lifted his hand, and gently pushed her mouth closed, "I'm not doing this anymore," he promised her, then leaned his forehead against hers, "I'm coming home, I'm staying in New York," he kissed her cheek, "where our friends are," he kissed her other cheek, "where our apartment is," he kissed her nose, "and your dream job," he kissed her lips, "and you."

Tears fell down her face, "you what?" She asked, still in shock, "you quit your job?"

He grinned at her, and brushed some hair away from her face, "I didn't want to be without you either. I can't get any work done because I'm continuously thinking about you. I told the guys in New York that if I couldn't work at home with my wife, then I wasn't going to work there at all, and I quit. I walked out of there with the knowledge that I would get to be with you every day, and I'm fine with that."

"But you've been there so long..." she whispered.

"That doesn't matter," he said and cupped her face with both hands, wiping her tears away with both of his thumbs, "I'll flip burgers before I'm away from you for that many days in a year."

More tears streamed down her face now. She didn't know how she could've possibly have gotten so lucky.

"God, Chandler, I love you," she whispered softly and kissed his lips again.

"You have no idea..." he whispered into her mouth, then kissed her slowly, deeply, and with very little intention to stop.

He only pulled away from her when he felt someone walk up to them. They both chuckled nervously as they turned to Joan. Chandler kept one arm around her waist and she kept one arm around his.

Joan grinned at them, "sorry to interrupt," she said sweetly, then chuckled, "you two are adorable. You must've been without each other for a very long time."

Chandler and Monica looked at each other.

Sure, two weeks wasn't a great amount of time.

And from the outside, it probably looked like they hadn't seen each other in two years.

But two weeks felt like an eternity to each of them.

"Yeah," Chandler finally said to Joan, "it's been entirely too long since I've seen this beautiful face." Monica smiled at him and squeezed his hip, "Mon, this is Joan," he said, "she helped me tease you a little bit." Monica wrinkled her nose up just a bit at him.

"Nice to meet you," Monica said, and shook her hand.

"You too," she smiled, "here's your driver's license back."

"Oh, thank you," Monica said, chuckling a little, "I kind of forgot about it."

Joan took a step backward and looked at them again, "keep that passion for each other," she said, and smiled as she walked away, "nice to meet you both."

Chandler smiled and gave her a little wave.

He turned back to Monica, "um, so," he sighed as she pulled his body against hers again. He glanced down at his watch, "the flight I got home is about to board. If we run, then I can get us on that plane."

She lifted her eyes and stared at him through her wet eyelashes, "or..." she asked, lifting her eyebrows at him.

He licked his lips and smiled at her, her back hitting the column again. He leaned down and kissed her softly, then whispered in her ear, "or we can go get a hotel room and some wine and some candles and spend the entire night making love and tomorrow, the entire day together."

She shivered with anticipation, "God, yes, option B."

He smiled and quickly looked around to make sure that no one was paying much attention to them. Some of the people were giving them funny looks as they walked by, but no one seemed to be staring, and he was happy about that. He gave her a quick kiss, "you haven't heard option C, yet," he grinned and nibbled on her chin.

She smiled back at him, "what's option C?"

He kissed her softly again, "I could just strip you down right here," he whispered against her lips, and pushed his hips against hers, "do you think the people in the Tulsa airport wanted to see a live sex show when they left home this morning?"

She groaned and kissed him, then ran one of her hands down his body and over him, "if we don't get out of here soon, they're going to get one."

He grunted as he pulled her to his lips again, then pulled back slowly, "let's go," he whispered, taking her hand in his as they walked together out of the airport.


Monica wondered how full the hotel was and how thick the walls were as she moaned and tried to control her screaming as Chandler made love to her.

She gripped his arms so tight that she was sure that he would have nail marks in them by now.

"Yes baby," she panted into his ear when he settled on top of her and cradled her head.

"I can't get enough of you," he grunted back, then moved his hips even faster as she came undone in his arms again, and it wasn't long after that until he spilled inside of her and landed heavily on top of her, "God, you're amazing babe," he whispered in her ear, then sucked her earlobe into his mouth. He trailed kisses down her neck

She moaned and ran one of her hands up to grip the back of his head, encouraging the contact with her neck.

He began to move off of her, but, as predicted, her arms tightened around him and didn't allow him to move.

He sighed and kissed her neck, "I don't know how you can breathe normally if I"m laying on top of you," he kissed her cheek, "I'm sure my much heavier bodyweight is uncomfortable."

"No, not at all," she said, and pulled him down even more on top of her, "I love your weight on me," she breathed, still attempting to catch her breath, "I feel so safe and loved, and I know that you're here, with me."

He pulled himself up on his forearms so that he could see her face, "I'm right here baby," he promised and leaned down and kissed her fully on her lips. He mentally told himself that if he could help it, they wouldn't spend another night apart from each other.

Although he felt like he could fall asleep with her naked body beneath his, he knew she would eventually begin to feel smothered and he didn't want that, so he kissed her again and moved off of her so that she couldn't argue with him and make him stay on top of her.

He wrapped his arms around her and she moved right up next to his body. They were both silent as they recovered from pure bliss.

"Round three?" She leaned over and kissed his chest.

He smiled, sighed, and kissed the top of her head, "absolutely," he ran his hand down her side, "let's go for the record."

She grinned and pressed her lips against his chest again, "seven times?" He nodded and squeezed her hip, "that was also in a hotel room," she pointed out.

"And not in New York," he added.

"And one of the best nights of my life." She turned her head up to look at him and he moved his down to look at her.

"It's definitely in the top three," he said and grinned at her, "our proposal and our wedding qualify as the other two."

She moved her hand across his chest and squeezed his shoulder. They lay in silence for a few minutes, listening to each other's breathing.

Chandler turned his head and glanced at the clock, then leaned over and kissed her, "hey, did you see the time?" She lobbed her head over to the bright red digits, the only other light in the room other than the candlelight, a smile spread over her face, "Merry Christmas my love," he whispered.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered back, and let herself melt into him when he kissed her. Tears filled her eyes when she pulled away, and he furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"What's wrong babe?" He asked.

She smiled, "nothing's wrong," she whispered, but a tear escaped her eye and rolled down her face.

He chuckled once and lifted his hand to wipe the water away, "then why are you crying?"

"I'm just so in love with you," she said brokenly. He turned his head, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight as she continued, "I couldn't stand the thought of you sitting in a hotel room, alone, on Christmas," she whispered, "I was standing at the window and looking out of it just wishing you were with me, and I couldn't do it. I couldn't be happy with our friends while you were by yourself."

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, and pulled her into another long, slow kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers when he pulled away, "I love you too."

She smiled at him and kissed his chin, "Phoebe says that we are soul mates."

He smiled and lifted an eyebrow at her, "I thought you didn't believe in soul mates?"

"Well, I didn't think I did," she started, playing with the hair on his chest, "but maybe I just didn't really know until I discovered that you were mine what it would be like," she answered, "and I really think you are my soul mate. You are the one person I am supposed to be with."

He nodded and ran his finger down her face, then lifted her chin to kiss her. She deepened the kiss with ease and slid her hand down his body. He tangled one of his hands in her hair as she threw her leg over him and pulled herself on top.

He groaned when she broke the kiss and began to trail kisses down his neck and onto his chest, "I think you're mine too." She stopped kissing his chest and moved back up, her lips hovering above his. He smiled and voiced his thoughts from earlier in the airport, "I didn't think it was possible to love a person as much as I love you, but it is, and I do. So yes, I think we are made for each other, and we're right where we're supposed to be."

She kissed him, a smile stretched from one side of her face to the other, tears forming in her eyes again from the sheer happiness she felt throughout her entire body. "Merry Christmas my love," she whispered again.

"Oh, Merry Christmas baby," he whispered back, "I love you."

She kissed him again and he flipped them so she was underneath him, "and I love you."

Monica didn't care that they weren't in New York in their bed, in their apartment. As long as she was in her husband's arms, it felt like home.

He feels like home.