A/N: So, it's been ages since I wrote this. Sorry for leaving it hanging for literally two years! I'm not really into this story anymore, but I kind of just wanted to finish it off for anyone who was hoping for a conclusion to this fic. Apologies for any plot holes or spelling/grammar mistakes! To everyone who asked, I'm doing good, thank you! :) I hope you enjoy. Any feedback is appreciated!

After the show ends, the atmosphere is heated between Chandler and I. I know that I shouldn't indulge him, but he's just so adorable and charming that it's impossible not to flirt back. We exit the auditorium and wait for Joey in the foyer, not fully aware of the expected protocol when the lead in the off-Broadway show is your neighbour slash roommate of the man with whom you share a sexual arrangement with based on the exchange of money.

"Well, what did you think?" Chandler asks me teasingly.

"That was quite possibly the most bizarre play I've ever seen in my life. If you can even call it that," I say, coming up short on words to describe whatever the hell it was that we just watched.

"It was a cultural experience," Chandler suggests. We both chuckle softly as I clutch my purse nervously. I try to retort back with some witty remark, but the way Chandler is looking at me leaves me speechless. The moment feels like it goes on for hours with neither one of us speaking up. I wonder what's taking Joey so long.

"Aww, you guys didn't have to wait for me!" says the man in question, finally approaching us with bouquets of flowers in tow from God know's who since we were his only guests in the audience. I feel a pang of regret for not bringing a gift of my own for my friend's opening night.

"Joey, where did you get these from?" I ask in disbelief. Joey frowns indignantly.

"They're gifts from the cast and crew. Some people know how to appreciate quality thespians such as myself," he scoffs at us.

"I'm sorry we didn't get you anything, Joe," Chandler says guiltily. Joey pouts his lips, his eyes widening like a puppy.

"Are you really sorry?"

"Of course!" I declare with as much conviction as I can muster.

"Great, then you can be my plus ones to the after party and make it up to me." He smiles broadly and slaps Chandler on the back, already back to his energetic self. Chandler lights up, no doubt thinking about the idea of the two of us dancing the night away, together.

"I shouldn't…" I stutter out, knowing fully well that I don't have anywhere to be or any kind of good excuse for why I shouldn't do this for Joey, who's already tutting and shaking his head.

"You know, I'm starting to think you don't actually feel so bad," he says disapprovingly. I look to Chandler for back up, and I feel like I see a flash of hurt on his face at my reluctance to join.

"Come on, Mon. It'll be fun," he says with a small smile.

"Fine. But Joey, for the twelfth time, I am not doing the Macarena with you."

The party is buzzing. Joey is quickly ushered onto the dance floor by a bunch of his cast mates, but Chandler and I hang back at the bar, not quite feeling in the party mood yet.

"You know, you can go home if you're not having fun," Chandler begins, interrupting a few minutes of silence, with both a slight, genuine smile on his lips and a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, it's just… I don't know how to act around you. There's not a lot of precedent for our kind of situation, you know. This is all so complicated," I laugh humourlessly.

"It doesn't have to be…" Chandler says, a murmur that I can still somehow hear above all the noise of the party as he edges closer and closer towards me.

"Chandler," I breathe shakily, "we've been over this. You literally just signed a contract a few hours ago."

"I know. So what? I feel like that's not what either of us truly wants here. Tell me I'm wrong." His stare is challenging and my breath catches in my throat. I feel suffocated, my mind scrambling for ways to change the conversation.

"Can I get two shots of vodka?" I snap harshly at the bartender. He delivers, and I quickly feel bad, deciding tip generously as an apology, frustrated with nobody but myself for my inability to do what Chandler asks. I down both shots immediately in hope that if Chandler really isn't going to let this go, I'll at least have more courage to face up to this discussion that now feels like an inevitable consequence of tonight.

Chandler is offended.

"So I push you to drink now, huh?"

"What do you want me to say?" I cry, beckoning the bartender over again and placing more orders, completely unwilling to suffer through this party sober. "This is my job, Chandler. My livelihood. This isn't some fun, flirty little game to me. I knew it was a mistake getting you involved in all of this."

I know I've crossed a line, and he backs off, defeated. I sigh, deciding to make my way over to the dance floor, leaving Chandler hunched over what drinks remain unfinished.

To Joey's credit, the party is fun. The music is crowd pleasing and I'm just tipsy enough that I feel myself begin to loosen up as Madonna plays over the speaker.

"Mon!" I hear a shout from nearby.

Joey embraces me in a tight hug, clearly having the time of his life.

"You're really living it up tonight, Joe!" I shout back.

"Dance with me!" he says with a grin, and I join him, finally matching his enthusiasm as we enjoy each other's company.

From across the room, another man locks eyes with me, and as I sustain the eye contact curiously, he makes his way over.

"Who's that?" I ask Joey.

"No clue. You should totally go for it, though, look at the guy!" He's tall, muscular, with dark brown hair and dark eyes. The type that I would usually go for if I still involved herself in such things.

My thoughts flick back to Chandler. Chandler, who's the sweetest, funniest, most caring and attentive guy that I've ever met. God, I've been single too long, I think to myself. I know a nice man for three days and my mind starts spiralling like I'm in love.

I engage in a casual back in forth with Jamie, as I learn his name is, and I so badly long to feel that same spark with him as I do with Chandler just to confirm that it's my hormones going crazy or loneliness kicking in and that Chandler's not special, he isn't, it's just that he's decent and attractive and clearly I'm getting carried away.

There's no spark. Some dark part of me longs for Jamie to reveal himself an asshole so I'll have some justification for the fact that I feel absolutely nothing towards him.

But he's not an asshole. He's perfect. He's just not —

I pull Jamie's lips down to mine, willing my mind to shut up, unable to think of a better option in the moment. We make out hotly and it's a sufficient distraction for a bit. Kissing is fine when it's not with a client.

But as much as I try, I can't get Chandler out of my head, can't shake the thought that I'm being unfaithful to him even though I know it's ridiculous. I pull back shamefully, and my eyes scanning the room in an attempt to avoid Jamie's eyes at all costs.

My worst fears come true when I see Chandler a few feet away, taking in the scene as it unfolds, his expression blank, before he slips out the door, away from the commotion of the party.

I give Jamie a weak smile and walk away, my legs slightly wobbly, dropping Joey a "he's all yours" as I brush past him, determined to find Chandler.

"Chandler!" I call out, finally catching sight of him leaning on a wall outside the building, lighting up a cigarette. I whip my heels off and start running, wanting to explain myself as soon as possible.

"I have nothing to say to you," he says.

"Well, I have something to say," I reply. He continues smoking quietly, and I take it as an invitation to continue.

"Look, I'm sorry you had to see that. I didn't mean to rub it in your face the way I did. I wouldn't do that. You know I care about you, Chandler." Chandler's face softens and I hate myself for doing this to him.

"Just let me know one thing," he says, his voice not much more than a whisper. It's an oddly quiet night in New York City.

I swallow, gesturing for him to proceed.

"Why are you okay kissing him, but not me?" He seems so small like this. I just want to reach out and hug him and make him understand.

"You're my client, Chandler. The rules are different. He's a random guy I'll never see again. Sex workers are allowed to have romantic lives outside of their careers, you know."

"I know. I'm sorry." Chandler mutters. "Is that really the full reason?"

"It doesn't matter," I say, not wanting to lie, but not knowing what good it would do to be honest. "What matters is that's the way it is."

He sighs and shakes his head, taking several deep breaths as if trying to muster the courage for whatever he wants to say next.

"Then I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore."

I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn't that.

"What?" I ask, shellshocked. "But we agreed —"

"Monica, I like you. A lot. And I know we haven't known each other long, but I can already tell that this only ends one way. With me getting my heartbroken. And I can't go through it, not again, not so soon after Kathy. This is your life, and I respect that. In return, please respect the fact that this can't continue. I know, we signed the agreement, whatever, I can still make the payments if you want. But I just can't… be with you. Not if it's not in the way that I really want."

I feel my eyes prick with tears as he caresses my cheek and gazes into my eyes, as if trying to commit me to memory. As if this is the last time he plans to see me.

"I'm sorry, Monica. I hope you find happiness. I do."

I close my eyes as he kisses me gently on the cheek, lingering for a few seconds, allowing me to breathe him in. I feel myself frozen in place and with that, he leaves me, rejoining the party.

"Rachel, I need to talk to you," I say the moment I stumble home into my apartment. It's fair to say that my conversation with Chandler killed any party spirit I had left in me, and I decided to Uber back alone.

"What's up, Mon?"

"It's Chandler," I burst out, unable to keep the thoughts of the man who has plagued my mind for the last few days at bay.

Rachel pauses. I look up at her expectant face, wondering whether it's too late to back out of this conversation that I'm already regretting starting.

"That dorky guy that Joey's taken in?" She asks quizzically.

I nod my head slowly, unable to hide my smirk at Rachel's description of Chandler. She raises her eyebrows, clearly noticing.

"This is really bad but please don't act too alarmed, okay?"

"What happened? Monica, you're scaring me," Rachel frets.

"It's not that kind of bad, it's just… look, I have feelings for him, okay?" I swear Rachel's jaw hits the floor at my admission.

"Monica, that's great!" Rachel exclaims as I desperately try to hush her. "When did this… start?"

"It's not great, it's not even just good. He's paid me for sex a few times and we just wrote up a formal contract to make him my sole client but I know that he wants more because he just said that he's calling the deal off and I barely know the guy and I already know I want him to be my stupid boyfriend," I ramble.

"It's about time!" Rachel says happily, completely oblivious of any potential obstacles to what she seems sure is a budding romance.

"It's not the right time, though. At all. He wants to be exclusive and having sex with people is my job, Rachel!"

"Is it, though? You just said that you've made him your only client."

"You know what I mean!" I say, exasperated. "You know that I don't want to do this forever. But it's all I have right now. The risk is too great. I don't exactly have a glowing resume."

"Don't sell yourself short, Mon. You want know what I think?" she takes my hand in hers. "I think you want me to push you towards Chandler and to start a new chapter. I've always told you that you shouldn't give up this career for some guy if that's not what you want. But this isn't your dream. You deserve to do what makes you happy."

I feel my eyes well up. Other people may have judged or scolded me for taking the path I did, but not Rachel. She's only ever had my best interests at heart. And I know that she's right.

"But if I stop… then what? The idea of it is just so scary. I've had a good life doing what I do and I won't have that security anymore."

"Be brave. Do this for you. And by the way, Joey was telling me something about a catering opportunity at the off-Broadway theatre he's working at right now. It pays really well. Apparently he recommended you highly and, uh, the manager wants to meet you!"

I roll my eyes.

"Really? You couldn't have led with that?"

Rachel just laughs.

"I can't guarantee that it'll come to anything, but it's worth a try. If not, something else will come along. You've worked your ass off these last few years and you've got savings. We've all been through periods of unemployment, I know I have, and you've always supported me, Monica. So I'm gonna support you. So will Joey, and Ross, and Phoebe. And so will Chandler."

I blush, looking down at my lap.

"You should talk to him," she says with a wink, and in a flash I'm left alone in our kitchen with just one goal on my mind.

Chandler.

I knock on his door. It's late, but I heard him get back a few minutes ago, so I'm assuming that he's still up. And that it's not Joey that I heard.

Shit. What if Chandler went back to some girl's place and he's not even home?

Thankfully, he opens up after just a few seconds. Joey is nowhere to be seen inside. She says a silent thank you to him and his womanising ways.

"We need to talk," I say. Chandler looks exhausted, but makes way to let me in.

"This better be good," he says.

"It is. I think," I say softly. There's a flash of hope in his eyes.

"You're right, I can't tell you that this deal we made is what I truly want. You're right that it's not the only reason why I can't kiss you."

"What's the other reason, then?" he says, his voice full of promise.

"It's because if I kiss you, I'm worried that I won't be able to stop. That I'll want to kiss you every time I see your face when we wake up in the morning, every time you look at me before you leave my apartment, every time I see your damn face."

Chandler looks like he can't believe this is happening.

"I really like you too, Chandler. I can't believe I actually developed feelings for one of my clients, but I did. And I have to face up to that."

The man lets out a breath that he's probably been holding this entire conversation.

"And I know what you want to say. That you can't be with me as long as I'm still doing what I do. You want exclusivity and commitment and you shouldn't apologise for it. And I know that even though I just told you I have feelings for you, you're not going to say any of that. Because you don't want to make me feel pressured in choosing between my career and you."

Chandler nods his head slowly.

"I can't ask that of you," he confirms, tears in his eyes, and it breaks my heart seeing him so conflicted.

"You don't need to," I say. His brow furrows, clearly not understanding.

"You don't need to, because I've already decided. I'm giving up being an escort. I have nothing but respect for this profession and the people who partake in it and I even have some fond memories here and there —" I say with a wink — "but it's time to move on. I've been stuck and in a rut and I'm not doing it for you, but I think that it took meeting you to realise that it's what I need to do."

Chandler slowly allows a grin to spread across his face, his eyes still misty, and I find myself mirroring his expression.

"So… where does this leave us?"

I go on tiptoes slightly and cup his face.

"I want to be with you, Chandler. I know that it's fast and it might not work out, but I've never felt this way about anyone. We at least have to try."

"I'm down for that," Chandler says, placing his hands over mine. I stifle a giggle.

"We're really doing this, huh?" he asks.

"Yeah, we are."

"Good. I want to be with you too, Monica. So bad."

After what seems like agonisingly long hours of waiting, Chandler removes his hands, placing them under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his. Our lips collide, our tongues meet and it's like the final piece of the puzzle slotting into place. It's intimate and sexy and rough and gentle and it's everything. The cliché about fireworks has never been more true.

We eventually come up for air, and the loving look in Chandler's eyes takes my breath way.

"To think we could've been doing that all along…" Chandler says in disbelief at what just happened.

"It's been, like, not even a week," I say, rolling my eyes affectionately.

"Oh, shhh, I'm trying to be romantic," he says, lifting me up, taking us both to the bedroom, where we finally get to do this properly. For real.

A/N: I won't be writing any more chapters to this or any more fic for Mondler. But I'm so grateful to you all for sticking with me and leaving such kind feedback :) I hope this was a good ending. Thanks for reading! xoxo Becca