Monica couldn't contain her smile as she allowed herself to be tugged along the sidewalk. She enjoyed the feel of his fingers entwined with hers, pleased it seemed he wasn't intending to let go anytime soon. They strolled for a few blocks before Chandler stopped suddenly and gestured to the building in front of them.

"Ta daa."

"There's no bar here?" she frowned eyeing up the elegant apartment building.

"Strictly that's not true," he said teasingly. "There's a lovely private bar out on the terrace."

"Wait…is this your apartment building?" she blinked, she certainly hadn't expected this.

"Technically, it's not my apartment, it's my mom's," he shrugged, "but it's right here and I can promise you we won't bump into any work people..."

She troubled her bottom lip with her teeth as she considered it, feeling his hopeful eyes on her as he awaited her verdict.

"Ok," she eventually nodded amused when he smiled back relieved, "As long as your mom won't mind?"

"Nah," he dismissed easily, pulling her to the entrance of the building. "Depressingly she has a better social life than I do right now. She'll be off somewhere with someone doing…something."

Chandler entered the main lobby greeting the concierge as he led her to the elevator. It all seemed rather fancy, a lot more so than her own apartment. She didn't even have an elevator, let alone one with marble-effect walls and gold trim. She watched stunned as he hit the penthouse button.

"The penthouse?" she asked surprised and he just nodded wiggling his eyebrows. "Now I'm intrigued."

The elevator pinged as it reached its destination and he guided her out, only releasing her hand once they reached the front door. Unlocking it he typed in the pin code for the alarm and flicked on the light switch.

"Nice," she let out a breath, admiring the place. "You live here? I can see why you never moved out."

He chuckled easily, taking her coat and hanging it by the door, "Actually, I've only recently moved in when I came back to New York. I needed somewhere to crash and my mom was happy to have me stay. Let me give you the grand tour."

"Well it's stunning," Monica commented, still a little in awe. The whole place was out of a showroom catalogue. All so modern yet elegant with top of the range gadgets and bright lights and expensive looking furniture. Then they came to the shiny new kitchen. "Wow. I think I have kitchen envy."

"Eh," he chuckled, "It's all a little OTT for my taste. Here," he led her through the sparkling kitchen to another room, "A bar as promised."

"That's crazy," Monica laughed in disbelief at the small bar before her.

"Yeah, my mom's a hoot alright," he rolled his eyes as he opened the drinks cabinet, "She likes to entertain. What's your poison?"

"Scotch on the rocks with a twist," she ordered automatically, watching as he confidently made her drink and then poured the same for himself.

"You wanna go out on the terrace?" he gestured to the double doors that led outside. "Should be warm enough still. Or-"

"Outside sounds nice," she agreed. "I bet the view is amazing."

"That it is," he grinned.

He handed her their drinks and then unlocked the doors. Looking over his shoulder and meeting her eyes mischievously he hit a switch. Outside instantly lit up with a flourish to reveal some wooden tables and chairs, a few large plants and bamboo privacy screens decorated with hanging lights.

"Very nice," she approved stepping out and admiring the space.

"It's my favorite part of the whole place," Chandler confessed taking the glasses and setting them down on the table. "Here," he grabbed her hand again and took her to the small wall at the edge of the roof, "look."

"Wow," she took in the views around them, drinking in the sight of Manhattan at night. The landscape was filled with high-rises and office blocks and looking down she could make out the lights from the never-ending string of cabs that sped along the street below them. "I bet you can see for miles in daylight."

"I'm gonna keep you in suspense, that way you may wanna come back," he teased.

She turned her head towards him a fraction, taking her eyes from the city and onto his face, studying him. It all seemed so romantic and Monica wished she knew what reaction she'd get if she leaned forward and kissed him. His eyes met hers and for a moment he seemed to be considering the same thing before he swallowed, looking away. He muttered something about his drink and retreated to the table.

Suppressing a sigh she slowly followed him, taking the seat opposite as she took a sip of her own drink.

"So," she started the conversation, "You mentioned you came back to New York? Where were you before?"

A slight shadow passed across his face and she frowned, watching as he took another mouthful of his drink, stalling. Did he have something terrible to hide? Had he been in prison or…

"LA," he finally said quietly and she let out a breath.

"Oh." What was so bad about that? "What did you used to do there? More waitering?" she tried to lighten the mood and was chuffed to see a corner of his lips curve up slightly.

"Yeah, that's me, my ambition is to waiter in every state. So far I have…49 to go."

"It's good to have dreams," she teased, watching him closely.

"I was a writer," he eventually admitted, taking some large sips of his drink.

Monica waited but it soon became apparent that no further details were forthcoming, "What kind of writer?" she probed.

"Comedy mostly. I wrote for a tv show."

"Wow," she hadn't expected that, "Anything I would have seen?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, not expanding, "I had a good job, car, house…a nice little life…and that's all in the past, another drink?"

Monica shook her head, having hardly touched her own scotch yet. He nodded quickly and headed back into the bar. She watched through the glass as he prepared his drink, wondering what had happened to him to cause such a dramatic change in lifestyle. At least she was making some progress though.

Chandler returned with his topped-up glass and settled back down across from her. She waited to see if he was going to open up some more, "Mind if I smoke?"

She blinked surprised. She'd rather he wouldn't but it was his place and she was starting to get used to it, "If you need to."

Chandler looked at her a moment then shook his head, "I can wait a bit," he muttered, suddenly shifting slightly, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the mysterious notepad, placing it on the table in front of her.

"It's inspiration and stuff," he confessed, tapping on the cover. "Writing's still a large part of me, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to kick the addiction," he admitted with a fond lopsided smile. "So that's one of the reasons I chose this job, until I decide what to actually do. I can't sit around this place all day- I'd go crazy and I like to pay my own way. The evening shift means I can spend the day typing and our oh-so-lovely customers often give me great ideas."

"Am I allowed to see?" she asked carefully, not wanting to risk spooking him.

"You want to?" he seemed surprised as he looked up at her, "It's really nothing special."

"I want, if's that ok?"

"Sure, ok, uh, I guess…" he stood up coming around the table and slipped in next to her. She grinned a little, liking him so close.

It was a well-used notepad and judging from the side appearance at least two thirds had been used, the pages crumpled. He lifted the battered cover and she leaned even closer to him, eager to see what was hidden on the pages.

Monica took in the scribbled words and doodles that covered the small page, "For a writer your hand-writing sure is messy," she commented and he barked out a surprised laugh.

"Thanks for the compliment," he joked. "Luckily now-a-days we have something called computers which-"

"Mom and young son on table 7," she read out loud interrupting him, too interested in the notepad and its insights to the man next to her, "Mom: Stop licking everything. What is wrong with you? Yesterday you licked the subway and what happened? You vomited."

"I never said it was gold dust," he shrugged in defense, "but sometimes I get good ideas and write it up and email the scripts across to LA. I still have some connections there and I get paid for it plus I enjoy it."

"Wow," she smiled before he turned the page. She giggled at one of the sketches of a man with breadsticks coming out of his mouth like a wooly mammoth. "My brother does that with chopsticks."

"Yeah?" he smiled, before turning the next page.

Chandler took a few more sips of his drink as Monica studied the artwork.

"What's that supposed to be?" she asked pointing to a blurred circle.

"Hmm," he moved even closer, his side pressing slightly against hers; she liked it. "Oh, that's a pizza saying 'Will you marry me?' Can you believe that's how someone proposed to their girlfriend? Via pizza? Thank god it wasn't my table as I don't' think I would have been able to keep a straight face."

"Hey, I think it's sweet," she protested.

"You mean cheesy."

"God, that's awful," she laughed, looking up at him, admiring how handsome he looked in the moonlight. He was so close to her.

He seemed to study her for a moment before his hand reached out to touch her hair. Slowly, he delicately placed a strand behind her ear, his fingers grazing her sensitive skin as he did. She couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her.

In slow motion Chandler leant forwards and captured her lips. Her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling as his pressed his lips a little harder. The kiss deepened quickly and she groaned softly, turning her body towards him, wanting more. This is what she'd been craving since that first kiss and this was even better.

"I see we have company."

They sprang apart quickly. Monica instantly blushing furiously at the knowing smirk on the older lady's face.

"Mom," Chandler grated, "I didn't think you'd be home so early."

"Early?" she laughed, "You kids," she shook her head before approaching them. "I'm Nora, Chandler's mother."

"Monica," she shook her hand, her face still beet red.

Then it suddenly clicked.

"Wait! Nora Bing? The author?!" His mom nodded, slightly amused. "Oh my god, your books are great. My roommate is totally obsessed with them. She's counting down the days until your new one is released. Wait until I tell her I've met you, she won't believe it."

"Don't encourage her," Chandler mock-grumbled, a hand covering his face as he groaned. "Her ego is big enough as it is."

"Nonsense," Nora dismissed him, "It's always lovely to meet a fan. Chandler just doesn't appreciate my work."

"What can I say? Mistress Bitch just isn't really my thing," he deadpanned.

Monica couldn't help but grin at the glares being exchanged between mother and son.

"Anyway, it was lovely to meet you, Monica. I'm going to turn in, a girl needs her beauty sleep. You two have fun!" she winked.

With that she walked away, heading back inside and an awkward silence settled over them. Monica smoothed the back of her hair whilst covertly watching him as he let out a long breath.

"It doesn't matter if you're 29 or 17, your mom catching you making-out is still embarrassing." He muttered causing Monica to grin.

"At least she went easy on us."

"On you," he corrected wryly. "I'll be getting third degree in the morning. She's always disturbingly interested in my love life and will want to know everything."

"She sounds the exact opposite to my mom."

"Good, I don't think the world could take two of them."

Monica chuckled again before a shiver ran through her.

"You cold?" he asked, instantly scooting closer to her, his arm going over her shoulders.

"A little," she confessed, allowing herself to lean against him, basking in his warmth.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, Monica drinking more of her scotch as she just enjoyed being in his arms. He really was the sweetest guy out there, she just wished she knew where she stood with him. After their first kiss he'd apologized and now she couldn't help but wonder how he would have reacted to the second kiss if his mom hadn't interrupted them. Would he have pushed her away again saying it was a mistake or would she be getting the exclusive tour of his bedroom right now?

Another shiver rippled through her at the thought and his grip tightened on her, "You're cold. Wanna go inside?"

She tensed. Was that an invitation?

"I mean there's couch in there and we could hang out some more?"

Monica glanced at her watch. She wanted to stay longer, to see what exactly this all was but it was late. Very late.

"I'd love to but I should head home. Rachel's gonna wonder where I am."

"Can't you let her wonder a little while longer?" he murmured, one of his thumbs brushed the top of her shoulder causing goosebumps and another shiver to run through her in anticipation. "I could do you another drink?"

"As tempting as that sounds," she swallowed, it sounded very tempting, "I need to get back. Sorry."

"Oh, ok," she was pleased he sounded a little disappointed as he stood up, closing the notepad and shoving it into his jeans pocket. "You live far from here?"

"No," she shook her head, "only about 10 minutes, I think. I bet you could see my place from here in daylight."

"Let me walk you home?" he asked softly.

"You don't have to, I can get a cab," she promised but he shook his head.

"Let me, please?"

She smiled blushing a little as she stared into those gorgeous blue eyes, "Ok, but only if you're sure?"

"Very sure," he grinned, grabbing their glasses and leading her back through into the kitchen.

Raised a gentleman he helped her on with her coat, although his hands lingered slightly longer than strictly necessary. As he went to open the door he almost tripped over a couple of books on the floor. Confused he bent down and picked them up, rolling his eyes as he spotted what it was.

"She must like you," he commented handing her the mysterious books.

Monica looked at the cover in confusion then gasped, "Is this her new one? It's not out until the end of the month."

"Sneak preview," he shrugged easily, "I'm guessing for you and your roommate." She started to read the back and he groaned, "None of that now. Come on," he opened the door, playfully shoving her out of it.

"Well, this is me," Monica said as they stopped outside her apartment.

He eyed it up and nodded, not letting go of her hand, "Can I see you to your door?" he asked, "Or is that too weird?"

"No, it's not weird, it's sweet," she corrected, despite his look, "I'd love you to."

His face lit up as he waited for her to let them into the entrance way. As they took the stairs Monica desperately wished she had the courage to ask him what he was thinking. Whether he liked her, had a good time with her, wanted to see her again? There had been so many mixed messages and she was confused but didn't want to risk upsetting the delicate balance they had between them.

"This is my floor," she said with a smile, "and this is my door."

"Hey, you're a poet," he quipped, stuffing his hands into his pants' pockets as he rocked back onto his heels, his eyes looking everywhere but at her.

"So…" she started, swallowing and looking down at the floor, "I had a great time tonight."

He looked up then, a cute grin on his cute face, "Me too," he confessed but didn't say anything further.

Monica took a deep breath, deciding to take the lead and just be honest, "I wouldn't say no to doing it again sometime…"

He swallowed, looking away and Monica resisted sighing. What was going on with him? Was there someone else? Did he have a wife back in LA? There had to be something.

"Yeah…I…" he ran a hand through his hair in frustration at trying to get his words out, "It would be nice…"

"I'm sensing a but," Monica prompted.

"Yeah, no, I'm sorry I'm not very good at this."

"Stumbling over your words?" she teased, "You seemed pretty good at it to me. I thought you were a writer?"

"Well on paper you can edit lots but out here it's more like live theatre and I was never much of an actor…" he pulled a face, "Look, I like you Monica but it's…complicated and there's…Can we just see where it goes?"

"Sure…" she frowned, not quite understanding but pleased that he at least acknowledged he liked her.

"Great, ok," he smiled at her, stepping forward and she waited for the good-night kiss, confused when his lips brushed her cheek instead. "I'll see ya, tomorrow."

He offered her one last 'boy next door' cute grin and then disappeared.

Confused, Monica let out a frustrated sigh before she slowly turned around and readied herself to face Rachel's questions. She pushed open the door to apartment 20, not that surprised to see the lights on and her roommate still up.

"Hey," she tried with a guilty wince.

"Where the hell have you been?" Rachel demanded, jumping up from the table. "I've been so worried about you. I was about to call the others and then the police. It's late."

"Sorry," Monica mumbled, dumping her purse and jacket on the nearest hook, "I went out after work."

"With who?" Rachel asked confused. "I thought they all hated you?"

"Chandler." Monica admitted as she collapsed on a chair.

"Chandler?" she scrunched up her face, "Your fire escape friend?"

"Yeah," Monica nodded.

"Wait…went out as in date?" she asked, her earlier anger starting to turn into curiosity.

"I have no idea," Monica moaned.

Rachel frowned, looking at her critically before silently walking over to the recently boiled kettle and pouring a couple of cups of tea. She placed a steaming mug in front of her roommate as she took the chair next to her.

"Thanks," Monica sighed gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm cup.

"So, did he ask you out?"

"I don't know," she muttered.

"How can you not know?"

"If he doesn't know how am I meant to know?"

Rachel frowned at her, "Did you kiss him?"

"We had two amazing kisses," Monica's tone didn't reflect the good news.

"But?"

"One he apologized for and the other got interrupted," she sighed in frustration, "and then he walked me home, stuttered something about 'seeing how it goes' and kissed my cheek. Why are men so complicated?"

"I know what you should do," Rachel said confidently, "let us meet him. We'll work out what's going on with him."

"Hell no," she shook her head firmly, "That's the last thing I need. You guys will definitely scare him off and he's skittish enough already."

"I'm just saying leave him in a room with me and Phoebe and we'll get some answers."

"No interrogations," Monica ordered. "I like this guy, ok, I just wished I could get inside his head and see what the heck's going on with him. He's so cute and hot and nice and urgh frustrating as hell."

"Maybe he's just a commitment-phobe?" she suggested, "You didn't show him your wedding folder or tell him the names you picked out for your future children did you?"

"Of course not," she grinned a little, drinking her tea.

"Just give him time, Mon," Rachel suggested as she stood up, rubbing her shoulder. "Men are strange."

Monica chuckled in agreement, "Thanks Rach," she said as her roommate turned to leave. "Oh," she called, "there's a present for you in my bag."

Intrigued and unable to resist the magic 'p' word Rachel made a bee-line for her bag, pulling out the two books.

"Oh my God," she was stunned, "how did you…?"

"She's Chandler's mom," Monica smiled at her shocked reaction.

"Then in that case definitely give him another chance. Give him lots of chances, lots and lots."

Monica shook her head as Rachel excitedly examined both copies. Her roommate opened the front cover to one of them and frowned, "I think this one is for you," she handed her the book. "G'night Mon."

She watched amused as Rachel quickly retreated to her bedroom, already starting to read the opening paragraph. Monica then turned her attention to the novel sat in her hands, opening it to see what Rachel was talking about. She blinked in surprise at the handwritten message, Thanks for making him smile again.

Hmm.

The mystery of Chandler Bing continued.

A/N – thanks so much to everyone that has reviewed – means a lot and always very much appreciated! I'm relieved that people are enjoying this one. Most of you guessed writing played some part in his life but there's still a bit to learn about the man! Also, I need to confess to being a huge Studio 60 fan so I suspect that's what's influenced me here…

Oh and happy Easter to everyone that celebrates it :o)