Only when he got out of the cab he had shared with Ross to get home Chandler realized that he hadn't gotten kissed at the start of the New Year this time.

It was all Joey's fault. When Monica had asked them if they could host the New Year's party this time, because after the near disaster of her overheated Christmas party she simply couldn't afford another party so soon after, Joey had suddenly – and rather belatedly - remembered that he was already invited to the party the ensemble of the play he had a part in was throwing in the theatre, and that he had promised to bring two male friends with him. Monica of course had been in a huff and all three girls had spontaneously decided to just have a girls' night this time. Rachel mostly because she wanted to escape Ross' constant whining and stalking and Phoebe because this New Year's eve already reminded her of how David had to leave her on this day exactly one year ago and she was still depressed about her failure to confront her father.

So Chandler and Ross had accompanied Joey to his party and it had all gone down pretty much how he thought it would. As soon as he had realized that there was nobody even vaguely familiar there and moreover nobody else seemed even remotely interested to get to know them, he'd been mostly ignored. He had drunk far too much, his ears were hurting from the too loud music, he had to stop himself several times from trying to cadge cigarettes off people, and just generally getting bored stiff. And on top of all that he'd had to endure Ross who kept whining about how he had wanted to kiss Rachel at midnight and try once more to make up with her. When midnight had finally rolled around they had walked out on the street to watch the fireworks and since Joey was nowhere to be found, he and Ross had ended up clapping each other awkwardly on the shoulder and clinking their drinks. And then gone in to drink some more and watch the party from the bar, until Ross tried to stand up, promptly dropped to the floor and fell asleep. That's when he decided he call it quits and go home.

At least he hadn't gotten kissed by Joey again. That had to count for something, even if it meant that he hadn't gotten kissed at all.

Now as he stumbled up the stairs to his apartment and started searching his pockets for his keys, the New Year was already thirteen minutes short of three hours old and he only wished he had drunk even more so he could just let himself fall into his bed and lose consciousness the very moment his head hit the pillow. In most of the other apartments in the building the New Year's festivities seemed still to continue, but no. 20 seemed almost eerily quiet and there was only a faint shimmer of light coming through the spyhole, as if a lamp or nightlight had been left on. For a moment Chandler debated with himself if he really should check to see if everything was alright. What if Monica was still mad at him? What if they had too much to drink and were passed out on the couch or the floor? Still drunk and half-naked too, his treacherous mind supplied before he could stop himself. Of course they would never forgive him if he saw them like that, and of course now that the thought had occurred to him, he was quite unable to stop himself.

After all, he could always say he'd just wanted to wish them a happy New Year.

Still, a part of him almost hoped that Monica had already locked the door. But no, when he tried it, it opened as it always did during daytime, and he hesitated in the doorway when he saw that the apartment was indeed quite dark, except for the light of the table lamp near the window and the faint glimmer from a street light outside. Both bedroom doors were shut. So the girls were probably both asleep by now.

But just as he asked himself if he should turn out the lamp – he was pretty sure Monica wouldn't want to leave it on all night – Monica's door was opened and she came out. Chandler froze and held his breath as she swiftly walked towards the kitchen, barefoot in a short light blue pajama, her head slightly lowered and her dark short hair tousled from sleep.

And looking sexy as hell.

When she arrived at the kitchen counter she finally raised her head and stopped dead when she caught sight of him, her hand going to her mouth with her eyes widening in shock over it. Chandler involuntarily took a step back, bumping against the doorframe, and flailing his arms about in his efforts to reassure her and overdoing it as usual.

"It's only me – ouch - it's alright. Just me." He remembered just in time to keep his voice low. No need to wake up Rachel and endure her wrath. Hell had no fury like Rachel woken prematurely.

"Chandler! What are you doing here?"

"No-nothing, just wanted to – nothing really. Just came back and wanted to see if you – well."

Monica narrowed her eyes at him. "To see if we what?" When he shrugged helplessly she came closer and looked at him searchingly, wrinkling her nose when she caught a whiff of the cigarette smoke and liquor fumes in his clothes. "Ugh, had quite a party, didn't you? Where's Joey?"

"I don't know, I lost sight of him as soon as we got there. I just wanted to see if you're okay before I turned in."

"Oh. That's nice."

"So … you turned in already?"

"Kinda. Rachel's got the early shift tomorrow and Phoebe's grandmother wasn't feeling so great."

"Aw."

"That's okay, Phoebe called to tell me she just was upset because her special 1996 Fortune cookies didn't work, but she had just forgotten to – well, make them special."

"Ah, you mean they weren't … funny cookies. Huh. That's funny."

"If you say so." Monica raised one of her feet to rub it against her shin.

"Oh, um … aren't you cold? You really shouldn't ..."

"I just came out to lock the door. Actually I was watching the fireworks from my window. There's someone on a roof who starts a new firework every hour – you know for the New Year in every time zone after ours. You've got to see this!" And she had already taken his hand and drawn him after her before he could come up with any reason that would convince her not to. And truth to tell, he didn't feel that tired and hungover anymore. Monica in a short pajama was so worth staying up a few minutes more. Any day of the year.

Then they were in her bedroom and Monica shut the door while he took off his coat and put it across a chair. When he followed her to the window he noticed the luminous dial of her clock radio. The time was 3.03 a.m.

"The roof over there, see? Any minute now."

"Um, Monica, it's three minutes past the hour already –"

"What? No, it isn't. That clock is six minutes fast."

"Oh. Really? Then why don't you – oh, right, you keep it that way. I forgot."

"Yeah. Oh, that reminds me, I wanted to check if the fireworks really start on the stroke of the hour …" and she turned the radio on, adjusting the volume until the music was almost too low to be heard, then returned to the window. Chandler glanced briefly at the roof she had pointed out and then looked at her again, suddenly and quite inexplicably fascinated by the way she looked. The way her dark hair framed her face, the way her pajamas almost seemed translucent in the soft faint light, how full and soft her lips appeared …

" - get kissed?"

"Huh?" Chandler started violently.

"I said, did you at least get kissed at midnight?" Monica repeated, frowning at him quizzically. "What's the matter with you?"

"What? Um, nothing. No, Joey had actually promised, but sadly he didn't make it this time …"

"Aw, and there was nobody else to kiss you at midnight?"

"No. No one I wanted to. I mean … I think it really should be someone you know, you know? A friend. At least not a stranger. Or else it doesn't mean anything."

"I see." She smiled a little sadly. "I'm sorry you didn't get kissed. If you'd stayed here -"

"Yes? Would you have - ?"

She wagged her head a little. "Mmmh … maybe."

"Really? But you didn't want to last year."

"I know. But I did feel sorry for you and I remember that I thought that maybe next year I would –"

"… hmmm?"

"Well – at least consider it."

"Ah." Without realizing it he had stepped closer to her and now they were almost touching. When he breathed in he caught a faint whiff of her scent or maybe it was from her hair.

"And …?"

She looked up at him, her expression almost wistful now. "It's no longer midnight."

"Oh." Chandler let his breath out. "Right. Pity."

"Yeah …" The corners of her mouth twitched. "If it was midnight now …"

Something made him look at the radio again, just in time to see the numbers change to 3.06 and suddenly something in his head clicked.

"But it is. It's midnight now."

"What?"

"In L.A. On the West Coast."

She just stared at him, her lips slightly parted as if in surprise. The music on the radio was faded out and after a moment of silence they both heard the beep of the hour signal.

Midnight.

When he reached for her, gently cupping her head in his hands and drawing her close, she didn't resist, but instead put her hands against his chest and raised her mouth to his, closing her eyes at the same time. In the instant their lips met he closed his too and sharply drew in his breath.

And for a long moment time seemed to freeze all around them, as if they were enclosed in a bubble of space where time had no meaning, no power, did not exist. The only thing that still had any meaning was the kiss. The feel of her lips against his, their soft caress as they parted, the hint of teeth behind them, the taste of her mouth … When her teeth grazed across his lower lip playfully, a cold shiver seemed to crawl down his back. Dimly he felt her hands clench on his sweater, bunching up the fabric under her fingers, and when he changed the angle slightly and pressed closer, she moaned and wrapped her arms around him.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun it was over again. They drew away slightly, albeit reluctantly, staring at each other in confusion. Chandler tried to swallow what seemed like a huge lump in his throat and helplessly watched her wet her lips and draw a deep breath; something in his mind insisting that he should say something, break the awkwardness before it could overwhelm them …

"Ha-happy … New Year, Monica" he stammered, forcing himself to meet her steady blue gaze. For a long moment her expression remained unchanged, then the corners of her mouth turned upward, to his huge relief.

"Happy New Year, Chandler" she said softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. It made him want to dance and skip, and it took all his willpower not to give in to that mad impulse.

Some movement to his right made her turn her head and her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh – oh my, look at that! Oh, isn't it just amazing?"

Whoever it was on the roof with the fireworks was indeed really going to town with it. The exploding rockets briefly lit the sky with huge fountains of burning colors spinning out in long trails of flaming sparks and arching back down to the streets and buildings before they were extinguished again. When Chandler looked back at Monica, he saw the fiery colors reflected in her eyes and playing across her skin, and his breath hitched.

"Yes … amazing" he said hoarsely. Her gaze came back to him and she smiled widely again in almost childish delight. She was still holding him loosely around the waist and he couldn't bring himself to let go of her either. Instead he drew her closer and was secretly delighted when she rested her head against his shoulder as she continued to watch the fireworks. He tried to watch too, and lose himself in the brilliant fiery showers, but the feel of her so close to him, her warmth, and her understated yet somehow bewitching scent proved too distracting. Hoping she wouldn't notice, he kissed her on her hair, and felt a thrill go through him when she turned her head slightly to look at him.

"Um … thank you for kissing me …" he said lamely. "It was … very nice."

She smiled and then suddenly frowned. "Nice ..?!"

He grew hot under his collar. "Did I say – um, I meant stupendous of course. Amazing. Mind-blowing. The earth moved! The angels were singing!"

"Chandler …!"

"Sorry." He brushed his lips across her forehead. "I'm an idiot. But it was really wonderful. And you are wonderful too."

"Aw."

"Yes you are. You are the most wonderful woman I know and I hope that in 1996 all your wishes will come true."

She drew away very slightly until she was facing him again squarely, still looking at him searchingly.

"You really mean that."

"Yes" he said unhesitatingly. It made her smile again, a slow almost dreamy smile.

"Then kiss me again."

"Wh-"

"That's my first wish of this year. If you really want all my wishes to come true …?"

Chandler swallowed again, his breath hitching.

"Are you sure you - … how drunk are you?" he winced when her expression turned reproachful. "I'm sorry, but I did have a lot to drink and we've never done that before, and I'm not sure if this isn't some kind of crazy dream-mmpf-umm…" his last words were cut off when Monica impatiently drew his head down and kissed him hard, all stops pulled, throwing herself against him so he almost stumbled backward. When he steadied himself and pulled her tight, one hand on her shoulders and the other on the small of her back, she moaned softly into their kiss and molded her body into his. Before he could stop himself he let his fingers slide under her pajama top just when her tongue met his and slowly and sinuously wrapped around it. It made his head swim and his breath come short, until he had to break the kiss again simply for lack of air. Monica kept her face close to his though, her blue eyes almost luminous in the faint light.

"I thought it would be fun …" she whispered almost inaudibly. "And I really want this. Don't you?"

Chandler stared into her eyes, swallowing heavily again, his mind in a whirl. This was crazy. Here he was, in Monica's bedroom of all places, and at night too, kissing and making out with her of all people, his hot, lovely, headstrong, quirky, neat-freaky, overambitious, overachieving, energetic, insecure, sharp-tongued, completely irresistible friend and neighbor. It was more than crazy, it was dangerous too, and yet to even consider resistance seemed completely futile. It could not be denied any longer: he wanted it too. So much. He had always wanted it. He heard himself say yes even before he had conscientiously drawn enough breath to do so, and then could not say anything else because they were already kissing again, hungrily latching on. She pressed against him, her arms snaking around his waist again, and pushed her hands under his sweater, her fingertips dancing up his spine.

And then she urged him towards the bed and, kneeling on it still pressing against him, opened the button of his jeans and drew the zipper down while he struggled out of his sweater and kicked off his shoes at the same time. They kissed again as he unbuttoned her pajama top and cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples with the tips of his thumbs. Then she pulled him down and over her as she lay back on the bed, raising her hips a little so he could tug her pajama shorts down and away, and then hover over her while she did the same with his boxers, wrapping her legs over his back and buttocks.

"Oh god … Monica … this is … this is so …"

"I know. I know. It's alright. Don't worry. Shshsh. It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything."

"But –"

"Trust me." And as their eyes met again, his concerns all but melted away. She was right. It didn't matter. Nothing did, not while it was still night, New Years' night, the magical time of the lost hours between midnight and sunrise, where everything went and nothing counted, nothing mattered whatever they did – even if it was making love like they did now.

Or maybe especially if it was making love.

.

.

He was still nursing his hangover with coffee and a big glass of Alka-Seltzer when Joey finally came in, looking remarkably bright and fresh for someone who had spent the night partying.

"Hey, you're up! Are you feeling better?"

Chandler winced. "I don't know. Should I?"

"Dude, it's almost 2 p.m. You nearly slept the clock around!"

"What?!"

"Yeah. We were getting worried. Ross said he had to carry you up the stairs. I told you they really load up the vodkas in this place!"

"But it was Ross who fell asleep – um … didn't he?"

"Nope. I met him when he came back down. When I came in you were snoring the house down. I had to roll you over!"

"Gee, thanks Joe." He pressed his hands against his head, but it didn't help the splitting headache.

"No problem. You should have seen Monica."

"What? Why? What happened?"

Joey grinned. "When Phoebe's grandmother heard they were all alone, she invited them over and fed them her special New Year's cookies."

"Oh. Ouch. But then – they didn't – they weren't here last night?"

"No – oh, you mean, did they see you and Ross? No, although –"

"Yeah, I know, of course they know by now. Great." Chandler kept his hands pressed against his head, closing his eyes. When he had finally woken up, still in his clothes minus his shoes, last night had been pretty much of a big dark blank and so far even a shower and a crazy amount of coffee hadn't helped to fill it in, except for a few hazy memories that refused to make sense. Monica … there had been something with Monica. Something to do with getting kissed at midnight by her – but that couldn't be. She hadn't even been there at midnight, which was a pity. If there was anyone he would want to kiss at midnight at the New Year it was her. Oh well. There was always next year to hope for.

And at least there was a definite upside to it too: he hadn't gotten kissed by Joey this time.